


In the Next Room

by xTimexTurnerx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternative-Universe, Captain Swan - Freeform, Drama, Eventual Smut, Exes, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Roommates, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-04-05 09:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xTimexTurnerx/pseuds/xTimexTurnerx
Summary: CS Roommates!AUEmma puts out an ad for a roommate, never expecting the best choice to be her ex, Killian Jones. While seemingly perfect on paper, living with your past love is never simple.





	1. Chapter 1

By the sixth interview, Emma was starting to lose hope. This whole thing had been stupid; her birth parents urged her to go through some official listing or realtor, while Emma had insisted she would be able to find a sane roommate off Craig's List.

It was all quite safe. She was meeting the potential roommates in a crowded coffee shop she frequented daily. She was a friend to the beefy barista, Happy, who owned the shop. They worked out a signal for him to attack if necessary.

All the contenders so far had something disastrously wrong with them. The first one mysteriously didn't provide any references and was dodgy when Emma requested them. The second was a squirrely looking male, age unidentifiable. He asked what color bra Emma was wearing, and one threatening gesture from Happy made him leave with his tail between his legs. The third was only seventeen, running away from home. The fourth wore all black and answered every question with a question. The fifth picked her teeth with the bistro's fork—yuck. God, she hoped the sixth would show some promise.

For the next meeting the person had only given her his or her surname, Jones. Of course, the name made her start, but Jones was such a common last name. There was no way it was actually _him._ He was safe in New York City, enjoying his fast paced life with no one to hold him back.

Emma grunted to herself and took a long pull from her hot coco with cinnamon. January was brutal in Boston, but at least Happy's hot chocolate made it slightly better. Happy was such an odd moniker for Emma's brutal friend, but she never pushed to find out his original name.

"Hello, I believe we were supposed to meet at three." 

God damnit, Emma would know that voice anywhere—its annoyingly incredible British accent and deep vibrato. She dragged her eyes up from the table to meet the vivid blue eyes she expected, yet somehow managed diminish in her memories of the past two years.

"Ah," Killian Jones said, itching his fingers behind his ear. "You are the apartment girl."

"And you are my three o'clock," Emma breathed. She took another sip of her drink, trying to compose her features. Other than the incredible shock of Jones actually being Killian Jones, she had never been completely immune to his charms, even after all this time.

"Should I sit down?" Killian asked, awkwardly hovering over the vintage red cushioned chair.

"I don't see why not," Emma said, smiling. He forgot how bright her smile was.

"Excellent."

"So, you're moving to Boston," Emma said. She stirred her drink slowly, looking for any clues in his face.

"Yes, my father's company is opening a new restaurant along the shore and he wants me to be here for the start up and run it."

Emma genuinely felt happy for him; this was something Killian wanted for the entire time they had been together—a way to prove himself, and something to call his own. "That's great," she said.

"Thank you, I'm pretty excited about it. And your apartment is ideally located, low rent, good kitchen, it seems pretty great."

"Which is why you answered the ad. The ad a female put out," Emma raised her eyebrows.

"Hey, lasses tend to be a bit neater than blokes. You can't blame me for seeking a more feminine touch. However, had I known it was you…" He trailed off, traces of a smile pinching at the corner of her lips.

"You wouldn't have come." Emma finished. She let the words hang in the air.

"I respect the choice you made. So yes, I wouldn't have come." Killian succeeded.

Ouch, Emma thought. That stung. But he wasn't wrong—she broke it off with him. She had made a choice.

"And yet, here we are," she said.

"Yes here we are."

A silence was filled only with Emma's mindless stirring.

"Still interested in the apartment?" That looked like the one question Killian wasn't expecting. His eyebrow arched, a habit she recognized that hadn't changed.

"Look, what happened with us is so far in the past. Over two years now? We were kids when we started it, we had no idea what we wanted yet. And now we do, and we're mature adults—"

"Speak for yourself, love." Killian licked his tongue across his lips.

Emma rolled her eyes, and held back a grin. "I'm at least a mature adult, and I don't see the problem here. You know me; I'm mostly neat, I can keep to myself and I make myself crazy busy. I'm barely home, I'm a pretty easy roommate." Emma wondered why she was suddenly trying so hard to sell him on the idea.

"Well, when you put it like that, Swan. How could I say no?" She winced a bit at the mention of her last name. No one else ever referred to her by it.

"Serious?" Emma said.

"Well, you argue very effectively. Something I see hasn't changed."

"Not at all," Emma agreed, smiling. This was nice. It reminded her faintly of those first few months she had spent with him, when she was nineteen and eager for someone to fix her.

"I'm in," he said. They signed a bit of paper work and it wasn't until Killian walked out of the shop that Emma had fully understood the implications of what just happened.

She was about to be roommates with her ex-boyfriend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Month Later: Move in day for Killian and Emma.

**One Month Later: Move-In Day**

Emma woke up early. She tried to convince herself it was because she wanted to beat the traffic into the city, but that was a lie. She barely slept thinking about her ridiculous life.

Her and Killian had exchanged basic text messages over the last month, you know, sexy stuff like: _Do you have a coffee maker? Or I'll bring the salad tongs._ Really, it was blooming with raw passion. Emma honestly believed what she told Killian when she convinced him to move in with her: they were a fragment of a memory. Nothing now could change that now, nor did she want anything to change it.

Her birth mother was confused about the whole arrangement. "So you two are…"

"Roommates," Emma answered firmly the previous day as she packed up the final boxes in her room. Being twenty four and living with David and Mary Margaret quickly became inconvenient and awkward, even with their constant reassurances that they wished to be part of Emma's life since their reunion when she was 18. 

"But, you two used to…"

"Date. Right. Years ago." Emma kept her eyes down and aggressively folded her baby blanket, squishing it deep in a box without any particular regard.

"Emma." Mary Margaret grabbed her daughter's hands to still them. "I just want to make sure this isn't going to end badly."

"It's going to be great. Being friends was never a problem with us," Emma said, unable to completely keep the bitterness out of her voice. She needed to put _that_ in check, quickly.

Mary Margaret sighed at her jaded and guarded daughter before patting her on the back. "I trust you."

Right, Snow trusted her. Did she trust herself? That was one of the many thoughts keeping Emma awake the night before her move-in. By 6:30am her yellow bug was loaded and she kissed her groggy parents goodbye.

In a few short hours she was parked in front of the tall brick building, smiling despite her anxieties. She took her bedding in first, relishing the freedom of her key opening to an empty room. Her black riding boots echoed on the wood floors and she dropped her black and white comforter on her new bed.

"Yes!" She said loudly, letting loose a rare laugh. Not only was it her first taste of real freedom, it was the first time she had her own home. She was no longer dependent on anyone to provide for her: not foster parents, her biological parents, or even a guy. Emma was paying rent, Emma's name on the lease. It was all hers.

The morning hours passed in an afterglow. Even mundane tasks such as scrubbing the kitchen counters, organizing her closet, and pinning up the few pictures she cared to keep, were done with a new excitement. Her life in Boston was going to be different.

"Hello! See you've made it, Swan." Except for the fact that her ex boyfriend was living with her. That was not new... But this version of them was— just friends, and moved on.

"That I did," Emma conceded. She moved out of her room and leaned against the doorframe. The layout of the apartment was open, the door leading into a living room and kitchen. Killian and Emma's rooms were off the main room, with a master bath in between them.

The February air left Killian's nose red and hair windswept in an unfair fashion-model type of way.

"Need help?" Emma asked.

Killian raised his eyebrows. "Aren't I the one who should help you with your bags, lass?" Emma was about to point out she had two hands, while he only had one, but bit back the joke that used to flow so easily off her tongue; they didn't share that level of intimacy anymore.

Emma rolled her eyes. "For god's sake, Killian. It's the 21st century." Without another word she shoved on her Uggs and went down the three flights of stairs to his car. It was a newer model, much nicer than the clunker he had when they dated. Emma grabbed boxes at random, ignoring the heavy television, not as strong as she boasted to be a minute ago.

Within a few trips, the entirety of his car had been piled in his room, sans the television, which was resting on the cheap entertainment system Emma had picked up.

"You unpack and I'll set up the TV?" Emma suggested.

Killian laughed. "Since when are you electronically inclined?"

"Since I didn't have anyone to do it for me," Emma said truthfully, not realizing the words before they flew out of her mouth. She spun on her heel, effectively leaving Killian's room before she managed to make anything else more awkward.

Truth be told, the time Emma had spent single the last two years was incredible. She had grown a lot, and developed skills, like wiring her own television, that she was proud of; she was more independent than ever before. As she lay down on the ground with a screwdriver, she hummed a light tune for herself.

"Wow, you actually do know how to set it up," Killian remarked, coming into the living room to admire Emma's handiwork once she pushed the wooden entertainment center back into place.

"Now all we need is, you know, cable."

"Ah yes. I've just set up mine to be continued at this address, is that all right?" He cocked his head to the right, looking like a puppy begging for a treat at the table.

"Of course, one less call to make," Emma smiled. Maybe this would be good. Maybe this could work.

He insisted on making dinner that night. "I've worked in restaurants for ten years," he reminded her.

"My cooking has gotten better!" Emma scoffed, not liking his implication.

"I'm sure it has." Killian's tone was absentminded as he searched their kitchen for some implement.

"I'm cooking tomorrow," Emma shot back. Killian paused, his back to her.

"I won't be here tomorrow night, but I will take a rain check." When he finished, he turned around, classic smirk on his face.

"Ah, big plans?" Emma taunted, pulling open a drawer to find the wine opener.

"Well, I'm going out with a girl I've been seeing."

She should have known. What had she expected him to do—pine? Of course he was seeing someone. The whole point of her breaking up with him was so that he could find someone better. But damnit if him saying it out loud didn't hurt. Hurt might have been too strong, but it pinched uncomfortably on the lid of her emotions.

However, she had been hiding her emotions for twenty four years. She wasn't about to stop now. "Naturally, who's the lucky girl?" Emma carefully uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. She only met his critical gaze when she slipped the stem into his hand.

"Her name's Annabelle. It was casual; I mostly just met up with her when I was in Boston for business, but now I'm living here and it's become more of a thing." Killian squirmed and took a sip of the red wine.

Emma laughed and Killian looked surprised. "You're not on trial! I expected you to find someone." He looked relieved and returned to chopping and stirring.

"So you…"

"No." Emma said quietly, watching his hand delicately handle different herbs and vegetables—he had more finesse in the kitchen than experienced chefs with two hands. "I've focused on myself." Emma smiled as Killian stopped moving, just for a moment. "Boston is my fresh start." Emma added, not knowing why she felt compelled to keep talking.

"To fresh starts then," Killian said, holding up his wine glass.

"Here, here." Emma smiled, clinking with him and swallowing her portion whole.

He was right to demand the right to cook the first apartment dinner; it was incredible. Pasta in some sort of creamy sauce with perfectly cooked shrimp. The salad was crisp, and he even made a side soup and desert. "God, I forgot how good you are at this," Emma said, taking a large bite of her frozen lemon meringue.

Killian laughed, "it is one of my better selling points."

"Or your only selling point," Emma teased back. Killian clutched his chest, and the small jingle of his long necklaces under his black shirt could be faintly heard.

"You wound me, lass."

"I'm going to have to meet this Annabelle that apparently likes you for things other than your cooking," Emma challenged lightly. Killian's smirk flattered, if only slightly.

"Excellent idea, she'll be able to persuade you better than I. I was thinking, should we have some sort of festivity to celebrate our new…" He paused, taking a sip of wine, "home?"

"I think that is a fine idea, Mr. Jones," Emma countered. "A housewarming party. I'll invite my crowd, you invite yours and it'll be a fun, alcohol filled melting pot." She agreed quickly to show how willing she was to meet this girl. Getting off on the right foot could set this arrangement up to be easy.

Killian chuckled, "sounds like an excellent night of sin and depravity."

"Only if we do it right," Emma winked. Conversation flowed so easily between them, like no time had passed at all. She insisted on cleaning up, since he had cooked. As she washed the dishes methodically, the warm wine contributed to her peaceful mood. This could work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A housewarming party with Emma and Killian's family and friends... including his new "girlfriend."

Over the next week, Killian and Emma settled into an easy routine. In the mornings, Killian brewed strong coffee in his French press, and Emma put two English muffins in the toaster oven. They each grabbed their favorite marmalades—strawberry for him, orange for her—and separated the pieces of the paper to read. Emma grabbed the comics, arts and national headlines while Killian concerned himself with international news, finance and business. It was simple as breathing.

Then they would each head off to their respective jobs: Killian went to oversee construction at Wrecked, the new high end restaurant his father's company was letting him manage, and Emma left for her police academy training. In only six months Emma would be able to apply for jobs within the Boston Police Department and Killian's restaurant would be open.

They came home at varying times, usually exchanging pleasantries before going to bed. Emma managed to not drop any embarrassing lines that somehow linked to their past, and Killian was the ever charming and tight-lipped man he always had been.

Friday, the night before their apartment-warming party, Emma settled into the couch on a rare early night. The recruits completed a preliminary PT test, and the women had been timed first. She was pleased to say she proved to be the strongest and fastest in the bunch—although there were only a few women in the program. She was exhausted and sore and looking forward to sinking into the plush cushions and watching mind-numbing television.

She flicked on the flat screen and suddenly was curious. What shows did Killian record? She grinned to herself, remembering the crazy science fiction stuff he watched back when they were together. They would fight endlessly, tackling one another and tickling trying to win the power of the remote, only to end up kissing and then…

Nope. Those were thoughts Emma could not entertain. Her cheeks blushed profusely as she clicked through the list of recorded programs, but quickly forgot her shame as her mouth dropped open. She immediately reached for her cell phone, fingers punching in Killian's contact info when the doorknob turned and he walked in himself.

"Oh my GOD, you have some explaining to do!" She called, standing up to push his arm.

"What on earth do you mean, lass?"

Emma couldn't muster any words but wildly gestured to the list of recorded _Bachelor_ episodes on their television. Killian's smile faded.

"You tell no one."

"You watch _THE BACHELOR_?!" Emma yelled. Killian threw his hand over her lips.

"Can you shut your bloody mouth?" He glanced around the apartment, as if expecting a microphone to be taping his words or a small crowd gathered waiting to mock him.

Emma started laughing deeply, hinged at the waist, clutching her side.

"You watch _The Bachelor_ ," she choked out between wheezes.

"Oi! That's enough! It all started because you used to force me to watch bloody _American Idol_ and pass out, because you go to bed before the sun sets, and the program—"

" _The Bachelor_ ," Emma cut him off to clarify. Killian glared at her. "Please continue with how I ruined your life," she waived.

"Right, so _The Bachelor_ came on right after and I didn't want to move you until you were sound asleep, so I would sit and watch the stupid show. And I don't know, it's so ridiculous… but so humorous at the same time."

Emma sucked her lips into her cheeks trying to contain her laughter. "Mmmhm," she murmured, not trusting herself to speak. And there was a moment, when her eyes were dancing and he was standing there, the banter taking them back years, that it almost seemed like no time had passed at all. They moved just a fraction closer together and paused, locking eyes.

Killian cleared his throat and broke the feeling. "You're never going to let me forget this, are you?"

"I don't think so," Emma said.

He slipped off his shoes and hung his jacket on the hook next to the door. He paused in front of Emma before grabbing the remote and clicking OK. The cheesy narration and music started filling the room.

"I missed this week's episode." He said shrugging.

Emma raised her eyebrows at him and went to the kitchen. "If we're watching _The Bachelor_ , I need a beer."

"I don't remember inviting you," he joked. "Many thanks," he added when she handed him a cold beer as well. He twisted off the cap and smiled before settling in.

As much as Emma hated to admit it, he was right; she fell asleep early. Not a half hour into the episode, she had tilted sideways, her head gently resting on Killian's shoulder. He laughed to himself and couldn't curb the impulse to run his fingers gently through the silky ends of her long blonde hair. It had been the first thing he noticed about her when they met. The sun had been shining and it hit her head just in the right way to make her glow. She looked like some sort of goddess and he wanted to worship her.

Killian shook his head, thoughts like those hadn't plagued him for well over a year and now wasn't the time for them to resurface. But if he remembered correctly, Emma slept like the dead. He rolled his eyes and sighed to the silent room before making up his mind. He gently hooked his good arm under her knees and his left hand around her back.

At the feeling of being lifted, Emma's brows furrowed, but she quickly curled into Killian's chest, her hand resting above his heart. He placed her down on her geometric bedspread and pulled the ruffled black blanket over her limp form. Killian paused for a moment, smiling at her. She was beautiful in the soft moonlight tracing her curled body.

Killian hadn't seen the inside of her room yet and took a second to look around. The decorations were simple, Emma not being one for nostalgia or many emotions. He grinned at the small cluster of pictures tacked onto a plain corkboard above her dresser. Smiling back at him were her biological parents—Mary Margaret(or Snow, her lifelong nickname) and David. There were a few pictures of her and her friend Ruby, a girl who was also in the system, doing various things. And then there was one of himself, which was so surprising it took his breath away.

It was a candid. One of her parent's friends must have taken it when the couple wasn't looking. It was the first Christmas they spent together, huddled in front of her parent's tree. Killian's good hand faced the camera and was loose on Emma's hip. She was stunning in an emerald green dress, and her head was bowed down, laughing at something he must have said. The little wrinkles around his eyes portrayed how incandescently happy he was. He wondered why she kept it through the years.

Emma shifted in her bed and Killian jumped, immediately exiting the room to leave, wishing to remain uncaught. Even as he washed his face and prepared for bed himself, he couldn't get the snapshot out of his head. _Get a grip, Jones,_ he thought. He jammed headphones into his ears and played some soothing alternative music to drown out his thoughts. His sleep was restless.

The next day Emma and Killian moved around each other like a synchronized dance. Emma twirled a Swiffer and dust cloth, while Killian tangoed with the stove creating appetizers for the party; Killian had yet to let Emma cook dinner, something that she was starting to distain.

After a few hours of preparation, the apartment looked great and smelled delicious. "Can you handle the rest, Killian? I want to start getting ready," Emma asked as she dried off another pot.

"Got it, it'll take you longer. Go ahead." Emma rolled her eyes.

The time was well spent. An hour later, Emma emerged in a tight blue dress, which contrasted her pale skin and light hair marvelously. She pulled on black heels and curled her long locks, making her look like some sort of sea goddess in a mess of gold and ocean blue.

Killian's heart stopped beating for a minute. "Well done," he nodded passively.

"Oh really?" Emma grinned, a glint of challenge in her eyes. "You're not so bad yourself."

Killian nodded in appreciation. This was as far as either of them dared to compliment the other. They were saved from any further pleasantries by the doorbell.

Emma buzzed up the guests and the door opened to reveal Snow and David. "Emma!" Snow called, throwing her arms around the younger woman.

"You saw me a week ago," Emma countered, ever uncomfortable with her mother's unabashed expression of emotion.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Nolan," Killian said smiling. Snow pulled away to hug Killian as well. David was standing off to the side, looking mildly uncomfortable.

"It's been so long!" Emma could hear Snow's greeting muffled into Killian's shoulder.

Once free, he nodded to David and David nodded back. Men.

The bell rang again and this time some of Killian's friends Emma didn't recognize piled in, and within ten minutes the apartment was full. Emma was busy pouring drinks for everyone and didn't notice when the alleged Annabelle appeared at Killian's side. It wasn't until Killian pulled Emma's arm to drag her over that she saw Annabelle. She was blonde, her hair in perfect ringlets framing her heart shaped face. She was petite, perfectly tan and had a cutesy nose. Her dress was a kelly green, and she wore gold heels that still didn't quite bring her up to the average height.

"You must be Annabelle!" Emma said through her teeth, sticking out her hand for the girl to shake.

"And you must be Emily," she said back. And damnit she had an accent. The girl was Australian and Emma was starting to quickly feel inferior.

"Emma," Killian corrected.

"Of course, so sorry." Annabelle didn't look sorry. "It's so crazy how you guys found each other! Craig's list! That's so funny."

Emma opened her mouth to correct her, to say, _oh no. Killian and I dated for three years. We go way back._ But she caught Killian's eye. His jaw clenched, and he tilted his head asking her to keep her mouth shut.

"Yeah… Crazy," Emma fake laughed. "If you'll excuse me, I just saw one of my friends walk in." Emma left. Why hadn't Killian told the girl himself? And god, how OLD was she? She looked like she just graduated high school, or maybe it was just her tiny stature.

Ruby, Emma's old friend and former roommate, saw Emma's distress and tugged her elbow over into a corner of the room. "What's going on?"

"He didn't tell her!" Emma whispered furiously, crossing her arms and cocking her hip.

"Okay, more details. Who didn't tell what to who?"

"Killian! That stupid idiot didn't tell his girlfriend that we used to date. She thinks we met for the first time a month ago."

"That's awkward," Ruby saidconceded.

"Yes! It is, and he didn't want to tell her either. He could have given me some warning you know! Like, _oh by the way, when you meet my pixie girlfriend, don't mention those three years of my life I mistakenly spent with you_."

Ruby's eyes softened. "Emma, he doesn't think you were a mistake."

"Not the time, you get the picture." Emma brushed aside the thoughts about their relationship, their break up… how brutal it was feeling like everything was exploding but you couldn't feel pain because you were the one who dropped the bomb in the first place.

"That is ridiculous, I'm sorry. Also, side note: how old is she?"

"RIGHT?" Emma said, much louder than she intended to. A few of the party patrons looked over to where the pair was standing. Ruby and Emma stood for a moment, shaking their heads. "I need a drink," Emma finally sighed.

"Agreed," Ruby grinned wolfishly.

Emma met Ruby at 14 in a foster home. They quickly became inseparable; two strangely independent and weird girls finding someone they could rely on. They managed to land in three homes together in their last four years in the system, and then moved in together at 18; Ruby got her bartender's license and Emma waited tables. Ruby helped her find her parents, encouraged her to trust Killian, and was there with the Rocky Road ice cream when her and Killian broke up. She had seen it all.

It was Ruby's personal opinion that Emma still, deep down, beneath the armor, harbored feelings toward Killian. And also, that Killian, _not_ so deep down, wasn't over Emma. Didn't his silence on the matter to his current girlfriend prove that? He didn't want to realize the fact he wasn't with Emma.

Ruby watched him interact with the girl out of his eye, and noticed while he looked happy, it didn't quite consume him like it did with Emma. Speaking of Emma, by the time Ruby turned back around, she had taken two shots. "Woah, woah. Steady there, lightweight. I'm not looking to hold your hair tonight, all right?" Emma laughed and tried to pass the time listening to Ruby's latest work drama, not by watching Killian out of the corner of her eye.

"Emma we're going to go home, you know it's past our bedtime," Snow said, coming up to the two women.

"Thank you for coming," Emma said, giving each one a light hug, still distracted by her thoughts. She started to feel the buzz of the alcohol and the warm, tingling sensation was welcome.

"Emma, can I borrow you for a moment?" Killian's hot breath tickled her neck, and because of her languid motions she laughed out loud.

"That tickles," she said.

"Oy, cummon." Killian did not sound amused. He pulled her arm until they were in his bedroom. He shut the door, cutting off the party noise.

"I just want to stay thank you, for not saying anything to Annabelle," Killian said. 

"How old is she?" Emma asked. Killian looked taken aback.

"Does it matter?"

"I mean, if you had to pick her up from high school today, yeah."

Killian rolled her eyes, "She's twenty one, Swan."

"Wow, could have fooled me." Emma spat back.

"I just wanted to say thank you, and would appreciate if you could keep quiet about it. For now."

"Why? Why aren't you telling her?" Emma asked.

Killian shut his eyes for a minute. "I'm enjoying my time with her, but she's a bit of the jealous type. I don't want to make her needlessly worry about this situation. She asks about it enough now, and she doesn't even know we have a past."

Emma smirked. She liked that she made this girl uncomfortable. "I mean, I won't say anything. But you should, soon. If you want to keep her as your girlfriend, honesty is better. The longer you wait the worse it'll be." Emma turned to walk out the door.

"She's not my girlfriend."

Emma paused, hand on the doorknob. "What?"

"Annabelle, she's not my girlfriend."

Emma spun back to face him and raised her eyebrows. "Does she know that?"

"Yes, it's casual. We're just spending time together. I don't do the 'boyfriend' thing." He was staring at the floor.

"Since when?" The words escaped Emma's mouth before she wondered if she wanted the answer to her question.

Killian didn't talk, but just looked into her eyes. He opened his mouth to answer, but Emma cut him off. "Don't." she pleaded. _Did she do this? Did she take the man that wanted to explore the world together, the man that wanted a family and turn him into a jaded, guarded guy just like all the rest of them?_ She couldn't let him answer because that would be enough to make whatever past they could currently choose to ignore all too real, all too present.

Emma left the room, pushing past the few people leaning against the frame. She navigated her way back to Ruby, who was putting the final touches on a cocktail. Emma pulled the red thing out of Ruby's hands and sipped it until the ice clinked.

"So it's going to be one of those nights," Ruby said knowingly. Emma nodded and Ruby fixed another beverage.


	4. Chapter 4

"So, I think we need to redeem ourselves after last weekend," Ruby said over the phone the following Thursday.

Emma groaned. " _We? You_ were not the one who woke up and vomited for half a day."

"Small matter," Ruby brushed off.

"And then, had a massive hangover for the rest of the day. I had to hide in my room."

"Yes, that's what I'm saying! I need to prove to you a night of debauchery can end well."

"Or, I could never drink again." Emma clicked her bedroom door closed, hearing Killian's footsteps leave his room and enter the main living room.

"Emma!" Ruby demanded her attention.

"Sorry," Emma mumbled. She turned her back from the door, as if the movement would keep her focused on her phone conversation.

"Something tall and British walk by?" Ruby asked. Emma was silent. "Exactly, this is why we are going out tomorrow night, and you are having limited choice in the matter. We need to get your mind off him."

"I got over him years ago, Ruby. He is not bothering me. But the vivid images of throwing up last Sunday are."

Ruby paused. She could argue with Emma now, when she was sober and stubborn. Or she could try and talk about the Killian issue again later when Emma was less on her guard. That seemed much more preferable.

"We'll talk about it again tomorrow," Ruby said. Emma sighed, "okay. That's fine." They said their goodbyes and hung up. Emma pulled on her slippers to make a short journey to a kitchen, hoping Killian had left by now.

Her and Killian lived in a tense, polite pattern of avoidance with each other the last few days. There was no carefree laughing, no shared beers, and definitely no _Bachelor_ viewing. Their simple morning routines had become stiff, and although they sat together at a table just as before, the conversation and pleasantries came to a grinding halt.

It's not like Emma was doing it on purpose; she was following his lead. The day after their party, when Emma spent the morning buried with her head in a toilet bowl, he didn't check on her once. Killian let Ruby hold back Emma's hair, fetch her water, and pop two Asprin on her bedside table when she fell back asleep. Not that it was his job to check on her, but she expected perhaps at least one phrase of concern. Nothing. Thinking back, she didn't even see him that day.

"What are you up to this weekend?" Killian's voice made Emma jump. It was the longest sentence he uttered in days.

Emma cleared her throat. "Not sure yet. You?" He was wearing loose fitting flannel pants and a raggedy black v-neck. Emma wanted to smile because this was how she remembered Killian: in pajamas and messy hair—not the suit wearing, groomed, pocket square matching robot he had become. But she didn't smile. Because this wasn't then, this was _now_ and Killian was in his sleep clothes.

Killian took a sip of his tea. "I'm taking Annabelle out to one of the high end restaurants downtown—you know, staking out the competition and what not." He winked and Emma felt angry. _Pretend nothing is wrong. Nothing has happened. It's fine._

"I just wanted to let you know that I won't be back until Sunday, I'll be at her place." Did that hurt? Emma couldn't tell; she was too busy focusing on controlling her facial features to feel.

"That sounds—" Emma forced a smile—"great. Really great. Actually, Ruby's been trying to get me out again all week. A comeback, after last weekend. We're heading to that theme club, The Rabbit Hole."

Killian arched his eyebrow. "Oh yeah? I've heard it's pretty strange."

Emma finished stirring her hot tea and looked at Killian. "I'm pretty strange." Emma shrugged before turning and retreating into her room.

"That's quite true, Emma Swan." Killian said under his breath before walking back to his own room.

**iMESSAGE**

**Emma: I'm in.**

**Ruby: I'll pick out outfits.**

Emma shut her phone off before she could change her mind.

And god, how Emma wished she had changed her mind. She was standing in front of Ruby's dirty full-length mirror, staring at the metallic gold skirt and black crop top she was wearing.

Emma pulled down the edge of her shirt, just to become unhappy with the skirt's hem. Ruby grabbed her friend's hands. "Emma, you look incredible."

Emma growled. "Easy for you to say." Ruby looked beautiful in anything. Her slim waist, curvy bust and long legs were every guy's dream. Emma felt boxy or man-ish next to her.

"Shut up," Ruby commanded, she didn't turn away from her make up ritual.

"Killian said this place was strange, what did he mean?"

"Mention his name again, and I take your phone."

Emma scoffed. "What did he mean?"

"It's just themed. They have some live white rabbits hopping in cages, some freaky Alice in Wonderland people dressed up. It's all black, white and crazy patterns. It's just very into character."

"Great," Emma mumbled. "Sounds like my type of place."

"It's not, which is precisely why we're going." Ruby smacked her lips together, and pushed a cup into Emma's hand. "Now drink up, or the whole thing is going to seem much worse than it is."

They caught a cab about a half hour after that first drink, and Emma had consumed one more since its conclusion. Her face was already flushing red and she could feel the tingle running throughout her body. She kept having flashes of the stupid fairy girl and Killian laughing over candlelight… sharing glasses of red wine in Annabelle's imagined apartment… Annabelle's legs wrapped around Killian's waist as he pushes her against the door…

"How much longer?" Emma demanded.

"No need to shout," Ruby laughed.

The cab pulled over a few seconds after and Ruby handed him some bills. They stepped to the outside of a bright purple door in crushed velvet.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Emma said. Ruby shushed her. The bouncer, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, let them inside with a simple nod, not asking to see either of their IDs.

Inside, the room was crowded. Emma instantly felt at ease in her flashy outfit, finding it was not even close to the most revealing or the most obnoxious. Women were clad in bras and tutus with fishnets, or skimpy Alice costumes. Some men had crazy ties and orange suits, or other random clothing combinations.

"I figured it would be easy to feel comfortable in a place you were the most normal," Ruby explained over the music that vaguely sounded like someone testing 100 different smoke detectors at once.

Emma smiled at her friend, who always had her best intentions at heart. "You're right." And she was. She felt at ease, despite the ridiculous environment. Who did she have to worry about making a fool of herself in front of? No one! And it was liberating.

During the week, she was so disciplined and focused, determined to prove herself among a male-dominated field. People were constantly watching her: peers, commanding officers, and even Killian.

Emma didn't comment on the themed cocktails (Jack Rabbit and Coke, Queen of Hearts Dirty Shirley, etc.). Ruby ordered them some brightly colored beverage and they toasted to being young, to being single and to everything in their lives. The empty glasses started clustering by their place at the bar.

"It's time to dance!" Ruby declared, pumping her fist in the air. "I'm going to find us partners." She left before Emma could protest.

Emma was alone at the bar, and took a deep breath trying to make her fuzzy head more clear. She was drunk, that was for sure, and even though the whole point was to forget about Killian and forget about their history or whatever, she couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time she told herself to stop, that just triggered another round of painful memories.

Really, this was his damn fault. His whole stunt with his preschool girlfriend/ not girlfriend who was foreign and curvy and his inability to commit because of her and those stupid blue eyes—

Before Emma fully realized what she was doing, she found his contact and clicked the picture of the phone. She jammed the device to her ear.

He picked up on the second ring. "Emma? Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, actually, it is." Emma's words came out slurred.

"Are you hurt? Are you okay?" The small note of panic made Emma sickly happy.

"Yeah, I'm hurt. And it's your fault." Emma slapped the bar, which she knew he couldn't see, but it made her feel vindicated all the same.

Killian was silent. "Hold on," he said. She could hear him moving and all the background noise around him suddenly cut out. "What is going on?"

"You! You do that eye thing last weekend and then you ignore me like I've got… Ebola or something! News flash: I am perfectly healthy and exactly the same as before." Emma knew she was babbling, but she didn't care.

"I know you don't have Ebola," Killian said calmly.

"That's not the point!"

She could hear Killian sigh through the phone. "I wasn't ignoring you, I was following your lead. I thought that's how you wanted it."

"No, I was following your lead!"

"Okay, well we both realize this is a misunderstanding, and we can be better from here, sound good, lass?"

Emma paused, still feeling angry, but realizing she was quickly losing traction. "Okay."

"Now I'm going to go."

"Right, get back to Annabelle." Emma spat. Killian didn't hang up. "I bet that's such a solid thing, seeing how you can't even tell her the truth." The words dripped off her tongue like poison.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Emma." It was hard to tell if Killian was talking about the week long freeze out, or if they had shifted completely to a different time and he was trying to apologize for so much more.

"Yeah, you should go. I'll see you later." Her eyes started burning.

"I won't be home this weekend," Killian reminded her gently.

"Right." Emma clicked the end button before she could say anything else ridiculous.

A few miles away, Killian clutched his phone, staring at the **EMMA SWAN: CALL ENDED** screen for a few seconds before shaking his head, trying to get a grip. He leaned against the brick wall, letting the hard edge dig into his back.

He closed his eyes, trying to eradicate any feelings about Emma. After the party, Ruby assured him she was the best person to deal with Emma's drunken and hungover self. "It might be better if you weren't here," she said softly. So he left. He slept at Annabelle's place after the party, still wondering if Emma was okay. He came home late the next night, hoping he gave Emma enough time to cool down and feel better. It had killed him this week she didn't want to talk to him, but he respected her space. He wasn't her boyfriend anymore, clearly. It wasn't his job to break down her walls and try and make her digest her feelings. He couldn't help wondering why did she care how old Annabelle was? Or if he called Annabelle his girlfriend? Or why he didn't? Why did they still affect each other like this?

After a few minutes, Killian was interrupted by a light kiss to his neck. "Hey there," Annabelle said in her thick accent. She shrunk back to her normal height as she rolled off her tiptoes.

"Hello, dear." Killian tried to sound sincere.

"So what was going on?"

"It was just ah, Smee from the restaurant. Something with the chairs we ordered went wrong, they had to be sent back. I need to meet with the company early tomorrow." Maybe it should have been concerning how easily he could lie to her. He looked down at her earnest face, shimmering in the dull outside light.

Suddenly, the thought of going back to her place seemed awful. He didn't want her to try and seduce him, or cling onto him as she slept. He wanted to be alone, and try and sift through his thoughts. "I may have to head back to my place tonight, so I can get ready early tomorrow."

Annabelle pouted, and then snaked her arms around his torso. "But tonight was supposed to be our night." While Killian usually enjoyed her touches, right now he felt uncomfortable and constricted.

"I know, I'm sorry. Another time." He kissed the top of her head, and pulled her back inside to finish their dinner. He was distracted for the rest of the evening.

Back at the club, Emma was saved from reenacting her stupidity when Ruby reappeared, towing two men behind her. She already was gripping the man with a shorter crop of brown hair and dark eyes. He looked like he did drama in high school, or something equally artsy. The other man trailed behind, clearly not as comfortable with human contact as his friend. His slightly curly hair was parted, and Emma could make out his deep blue eyes under the club's strange lighting.

"Emma! This is Jefferson," she gestured to her chosen guy. "And this is his friend, Graham! Graham is a police officer, you two have so much in common!" She gently pushed his arm toward Emma, and she stood up to shake his hand.

"So nice to meet you," he said effortlessly.

"We're going to go dance!" Ruby yelled, already leaving the pair behind and walking toward the dance floor with an eager Jefferson in tow.

"Does she always do this?" Graham asked.

"Do what?"

"Try and blatantly set you up with random guys from the bar?"

Emma laughed. "Not for a while, she believes I need to find a new guy."

"Do you?" Graham raised his eyebrow, sitting down next to Emma.

"Maybe," Emma said. The flirting was easy.

"That sounds like an opening," Graham said. Emma seized him up: he looked like he had no trouble attracting women, but for some reason it didn't bother her. He was funny, and apparently was on the same projected career path as her in the same city. Maybe Ruby was right; maybe she could easily forget her anger at Killian if she found the right person.

"Well how about this one: come dance with me." Emma stood up and put her hands on her hips in front of him.

He ticked his head to the side, "I like that one." Graham rose and laced his fingers in Emma's, letting her take the lead. She moved them through the throng of people and found an easy spot in the middle of the dance floor.

She turned toward him and started to move. After a few minutes, he placed his hands on her hips, and Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, moving them closer. She threw her head back, lost in the weird beat, and the weird circumstances and tried to forget a world existed outside of this dance floor.

By now, the rounds of drinks had fully set in, and Emma was unsure if her dancing was as impressive to those around her as it was in her own mind. Regardless, Graham didn't seem to mind; he didn't even complain when she stepped on his foot a few times.

"Emma," he said, sliding his hand up her side to cup her face. "You are beautiful."

How long had it been since someone had told her that? Instead of replying, she moved her mouth to cover his, both bodies stilling in the middle of the dance floor to focus on the more pressing matter at hand. Graham pulled her body against his, and let his hand move from her face to tangle in her long blonde hair. She tilted her head to allow for a more intimate angle. They pulled apart when they ran out of air and leaned their foreheads against one another.

"You're quite the kisser," Graham said. She enjoyed the feeling of his hands tight on her waist; she felt wanted.

"You should see what else I can do," Emma said huskily. When her and Killian first broke up, she had quite a few one night stands. She tried to fall out of love with him by falling in bed with other men. When it didn't work, she dropped the habit and settled on being alone to gain independence. But the one drawback was that life was lonely. She hadn't been with anyone in quite some time and maybe one last tryst could cure her resurfacing feelings.

"That sounds like an opening," he repeated from earlier.

"Where do you live?" She asked, keeping one hand stroking his jaw line and the other she let fiddle with a side belt loop.

"Three blocks from here."

Emma grinned, "I'll get my coat."

She turned to walk away, and he grabbed her hand. "Are you sure?" His blue eyes were searching hers, and her foggy mind noted his concern and care for her.

"Only if you are." He let her hand go after placing a kiss on her knuckles. Emma staggered to find her coat and then fished her phone out of her pocket to text Ruby.

**iMessage**

**Emma: Going with Graham. Call u tomorrow.**

She only had to wait a few moments for Ruby's response.

**Ruby: Wooo! Get it!**

Emma rolled her eyes and Graham came up and slipped his arm around her waist. "Ready?"

"Ready," Emma affirmed. They left the club, and the bitter March air licked at Emma's legs. However, her liquid layer made the painful gusts unnoticeable and she clung to Graham's arm, laughing at stories he told her about ridiculous things he witnessed while on the job.

They finally reached the apartment building, and got into Graham's. The place was small, but nicely decorated and neat. He had some vintage covers of Little Red Riding Hood framed over his dark leather sofa. "Those are cool," Emma noted, pointing at the most antiqued cover.

"Thanks, I became a bit fascinated with fairytales in college. I was an English major, and I wrote my thesis on Little Red Riding Hood. There's some wicked gore in a few of them, interesting to see how it developed."

"I bet," Emma said sincerely. The awkward we've-arrived-at-the-place-for-the-sex-what-do-we-do-now feeling set in. Emma crossed the room and put her hands on Graham's shoulders, he slipped his easily back on her hips. "Hi," Emma said, biting her lip.

"Hello there," he said. He reached down and kissed her. It was softer than the club, more gentle. However, the embrace quickly became heated as Emma opened her mouth and pressed her body completely against his. He groaned into her mouth and his hands slipped to rest on her butt.

After a few moments, he bent down and lifted her from under her thighs. She let out a laugh of surprise and wrapped her legs around him. He carried her to his bedroom, pressing her against the wall as he continued to kiss her. She slid down to rest back on her own feet and he kissed down the column on her neck.

Her fingers moved to undo the buttons on his shirt, but her drunkenness made the endeavor difficult.

He grabbed her clumsy fingers in his hands and stilled his mouth. "Emma, are you sure you want this?"

She knew she wanted to forget Killian and Annabelle; the thought made her chest contract painfully. Her hesitation made Graham drop her hands to her sides. "You are gorgeous Emma, and please don't take this the wrong way because I would absolutely love to pull you in bed with me, but you're quite drunk."

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but closed it realizing maybe he was right. She was drunk and upset and he seemed so nice; he didn't deserve this.

"How about this: you can take the bed, I'll take the couch and tomorrow I'll make you the best eggs you've ever had."

Emma laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. He pulled her close for a hug, comforting her with his tight embrace. "I'm sorry," she said. The sound was muffled against his chest.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said back, kissing the top of her head. "I got to spend the night with a great girl instead of listening to Jefferson complain. Let me get you a shirt," Graham said, after a moment of prolonged hugging. "And some water," he added chuckling as she tripped a bit walking over to the bed. She sank down into the plush mattress and sighed.

"You do look good in my bed," he said. He handed her a long t-shirt and put a glass of water on the bedside table. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Goodnight," he said.

She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him to her lips. "Thank you," she said, and kissed him gently.

"Of course," he said. He kissed her one more time before leaving the room.

On the other side of town, Killian lay in his bed alone, listening for any sound of the apartment door opening. It never did.

The next morning, Emma woke to the smell of eggs, and the instant headache brought the memories of the previous night flooding night. She groaned out loud.

"Morning," Graham laughed from the kitchen. She sat up on the couch, and could see him walking around the kitchen, shirtless. His hair was scruffy and she could admit he looked adorable.

Emma got up, pausing to let the head rush flood her senses. She stumbled over to the kitchen island.

"Coffee?" Graham asked, handing her a steaming mug.

"Ugh, thank you." Emma took a sip; Graham smiled and she started to feel awkward. She felt bad he went to all this trouble when she essentially made him leave a bar early to put a drunk mess in his bed and sleep on his sofa.

Emma put the cup down, and shifted off the stool. "I should go."

Graham turned around, and looked crestfallen. "You haven't tasted the eggs yet!"

"Look, this is nice but you don't have to do all this. I'm sorry that I teased you—"

"Emma!" Graham cut her off and walked closer. "I'm cooking you eggs because I want to. And you weren't teasing anyone, no offense. Anyone could see how drunk you were. I could have either left you alone and some other guy could come in and take advantage of you, or I could have let you go back to Ruby who actually, shockingly, looked like she was having a good time with Jefferson. So, I was trying to be a good friend, and a good guy."

Emma stood there, her arms crossed, quite shocked. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I wasn't really myself last night." Emma shifted, pulling down the hem of his oversized shirt she still wore.

Graham turned his attention back to the eggs. "Well," he said, grabbing two plates and pulling some toast from the toaster. "I would love to get to know you." He put the eggs on the plate and slid one towards her. He came around and sat next to her. Emma tilted her head, trying to understand him better.

"Of course, I'm not trying to bribe you with my excellent cooking skills. You can say no, and eat and leave. Or you could say yes, and eat and well, probably leave because I doubt you want to walk around in March in that outfit." Emma snorted into her coffee. "But you could also give me your number and we could go out sometime."

"Let me mull it over, I haven't even had my eggs yet." Emma joked. Graham smiled, and they ate an excellent breakfast, and Emma left her number on a napkin for him.

He insisted on calling the cab, and also that she borrow his shirt, for which she was grateful; nothing could be helped about the gold skirt or black heels. She sighed as she drove away from Graham's apartment; it was a walk of shame without the implicated act.

She pulled up to her familiar building and went to pay. "Oh, he already paid me." Emma was taken aback, _smooth._

She hustled inside so she could finally strip off her binding clothes. She opened the door, looking forward to the empty apartment. She winced thinking about her call to Killian last night; she would have to apologize to him. She was out of line commenting on his relationship, or lack thereof with Annabelle. Maybe she would text him after she showered.

She unstrapped her heels at the door, happy to get the blasted things off her feet.

"I made coffee." A voice said and she jumped, clutching her chest. Her eyes settled on Killian, standing in the kitchen. He was in those flannel pajamas again, his hair was ruffled, and eyes bloodshot. He looked like he barely got any sleep.

"I thought you were at Annabelle's!" Emma said, walking into their kitchen.

"Something came up," he said evenly. "She needed to go out of town." His jaw clenched, which was his tell; he was lying. Emma knew him well, and she knew lying well—he was definitely hiding something. But, maybe the two had gotten in a fight. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't her place.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Emma said, taking the coffee cup as a peace offering. Killian's eyes scaled the length of her and she colored under his gaze, remembering Graham's shirt tied neatly over her hip over her own.

"Have a good night." It wasn't a question, more like a curt statement.

"I did," Emma said. "And listen, I'm sorry about last night, calling you like that. I was drunk and it won't happen again."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're safe." His eyes melted, showing something deep Emma hadn't seen since that day; that day three years ago.

Inside, Killian's mind was reeling. Here he had been, alone in the apartment, tossing and turning all night, while Emma had clearly found herself male company. She walked in with some bloke's shirt on and he hated it more than he ever thought he would. But how could he say any of that? Until this weekend, he had quite excitedly and willingly enjoyed his time with Annabelle.

"Thanks." Emma said, and she smiled. _Bloody fuck that smile,_ Killian thought. He needed to collect himself; it must be the sleep deprivation.

"I'm going back to bed bit of a lie in, didn't sleep well last night." Killian turned, as her words from the previous night played in his head: _Yeah, I'm hurt. And it's your fault._

"Just so you know," he said. He was suddenly angry, at his stupidity, at this weird situation they were in, and at his confusing feelings. "You weren't the only one who was hurt, Emma. Back then. And it's ancient history now, it doesn't matter, but I'm pretty sure it was rougher on me. At least you saw it coming." With that said, he retreated back into his room.

Emma put her full coffee cup forcefully into the sink, accidentally chipping the corner. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and headed to the shower, hoping that would wash away the past 24 hours.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter breaks my shipper heart, but it's necessary to move the plot along, just remember that Captain Swan is end game here! The angst will make it better! Also heads up, the next chapter is completely removed from the story line, we will finally see what happened with Emma and Killian in a series of flashbacks.

Each of them had the chance to voice their feelings—Emma with her drunken phone call, and Killian with his speech when she came home the next morning. Although both of them expected the following days to be awkward, they were able to slip back into their routine and friendship easily after finally clearing the air; it was a relief.

Killian was able to loose himself in the construction and design of _Wrecked_ , effectively burying whatever strange jealousy and feelings had resurfaced during that strange weekend and phone call. He apologized to Annabelle and spent the following weekend at her place, appreciating her touches in a way he couldn't that night. And Emma never popped up in his thoughts during these intimate times…well almost never. Every once and a while after him and Annabelle had retired for the night and she dozed off, his mind wandered. It wandered to the picture of Emma grinning in her green dress, or long days spent kissing down her spine… But these were fleeting, and he did his best not to dwell on them. Reminiscing was normal… right?

Emma went on two dates with Graham, and everything was going well. He was just as funny and charming as he had been the first night she had met him, and equally chivalrous. Ruby and Jefferson hit it off that night and all Emma heard about for the past few weeks was how dark and brooding and _wonderful_ he was; she also learned far more about their sex life than she ever needed to. During each phone call, Ruby would harass Emma about her physical relationship with Graham. Emma would give Ruby the juicy details but there was nothing to tell. At the end of each date when she thought about asking him up to her place or to go to his, but there was a nagging twist in her gut stopping her.

She tried explaining this to Ruby, who insisted the "twist in her gut" was Emma's lady parts shriveling up from lack of use, which somehow she didn't think was the case. Emma felt like the more obvious explanation was Killian, the polite-ex-boyfriend-roommate living in her apartment. But he seemed happy with Annabelle, and she needed to wrap her head around that.

So, she decided tonight was the night she wasn't going to chicken out. Emma would take their new relationship to the next level. They previously had played paintball, ate dinner, as well as seen a movie together. Tonight, they were going to quite a nice restaurant. Emma was carefully considered her appearance. She decided on red, because it reminded her of passion. She swept her curled hair to one side of her head and put on long earrings.

She stepped out of her room to see Killian standing at the island in jeans and an undershirt mixing a cup of tea. "Wow," he said, turning at the sound of her heels against the hard wood. He looked at her from head to toe. "You look splendid. Big evening out?" Killian had never been home when she left for her dates with Graham before.

"Ah, yes, actually," Emma answered, busying herself by applying lipstick in the small wall mirror. 

"Who's the lucky bloke?" Killian took a sip of his tea.

"His name is Graham, he's a police officer."

"And what are his intentions with you, Ms. Swan?" His eyebrow arched and he looked absolutely sinful.

Emma laughed to cover the magnetism she felt toward him. "I hope anything but honorable." She wanted to stuff her first in her mouth for letting that fly out, but then decided to play it cool.

Killian choked on his tea, not expecting this answer. Emma had changed in the years since they'd broken up; she was a lot more confident in herself, much more sure of what she wanted. He gripped the handle of his mug until his knuckles whitened. "Why have I never met this man then?"

Emma finally turned around, done fixing herself and cursing her stupid mouth. "I figured introducing him to my ex wasn't a great first date ice breaker."

Killian chuckled. "So he doesn't know either, does he?" His voice suddenly had an edge, sounding defensive as if to say, _See, isn't it easier not to tell?_

"No, he knows about you. It's just one thing to be aware and another to see it, you know?" Emma clipped her clutch shut and Killian stared moodily down at his tea, which he suddenly lost a taste for. Of course Emma told Graham when he hasn't told Annabelle; she was always the better out of the two of them—more honest, more full of light. _No wonder she left you,_ the dark voice circled in his head.

The buzzer sounded, and a deep voice came over the speaker. "Emma?"

She rushed over and pushed the button. "Graham! I'll be down in one second."

"Have a good night," Killian replied dutifully, dumping his tea down the sink. Emma waived before grabbing her coat and walking out the door.

"You look incredible," Graham said before kissing Emma on the cheek.

She bowed her head to look at the sidewalk. "Thank you."

He put his calloused thumb in the center of her chin, gently prodding her to look at him. "I mean it."

She gave him a genuine smile, "I know."

"Good," he said. He called a cab, which lead them to an upscale steak house. He gave their name to the hostess and she led them directly to a table.

"This is beautiful," Emma noted.

"I've been dying to go here for ages." Graham loved food like Killian did. A twinge went through Emma's chest. Graham was a great guy and she needed to see him for the man he was, not in comparison to Killian—because nothing ever matches up to your first love.

"Glad I provided the occasion for it then," Emma said.

"As am I," Graham smiled. He called a waiter order a bottle of wine, which Emma was fine with. She honestly didn't know much about wine or the quality of any alcohol; Ruby was the bartender and before that, Killian was. _Two Killians in under a minute. Get a grip._

The dinner was the most delicious thing Emma had tasted in memory. Soon after, Graham paid their check. They hopped in a taxi (after he pulled out her chair for her and held out her jacket for her to put on), and Graham leaned forward to tell the driver Emma's address. In that split second, Emma saw she had a choice. She could go home alone and spend another night wondering why she couldn't act on her desires, or she could trust that Graham was good and this thing they had could repair the damage to her heart she once believed to be irreparable.

"Can I come back to your place?" Emma whispered in Graham's ear, wrapping one arm around his back and letting the other rest on his thigh.

He looked over at her. "Are you sure?" Emma nodded her head quickly, mindful of the waiting driver. Graham gave his address and rested back, leaning his head on the top of Emma's.

*******************

Back at the apartment, Killian's hands leaned against either side of the sink, staring at the cup which recently held his tea. He wondered where Graham was taking Emma tonight, what he would say about her appearance. He wondered if Graham was the owner of the white t-shirt Emma came home in that one night a few weeks ago… He hated that thought.

There are times he forgets about his and Emma's past completely. Like when Annabelle surprises him with unexpected thoughtfulness or passion. There are times when he can feel the way Emma has shifted or changed him, but he's able to hold together his surface; like a lake that freezes over in the winter, but water moves below, smoothing stones and changing the land. And there are times like _these,_ when the break up feels like yesterday and the pain is so real and suffocating he's left to wonder how he has survived these last three years.

Rather than sitting alone and brooding in the apartment, Killian did his best to pull himself from the past and focus on the present. He called Annabelle, and she's estatic to have him over on short notice. He took a cab to her apartment and smiled when he saw her in the pale green satin nightgown. She's gorgeous and adores him; he's luckier than he deserves to be.

"I've been thinking, love."

"That's never good," Annabelle teased. Killian laughed. With her, everything was light and easy, and she's not probing him about his past or his future. She was always content for the moment.

With Emma, everything was _so_ serious, so quickly. They read each other like open books and he was committed to her in a heartbeat, because he was sure that she was carved out of the same stock that was used to create him. They were two pieces of one whole and he knew he needed her the second he met her.

It was a relief not to have that kind of cosmic pressure on him and Annabelle. "I was thinking that we should be official."

Annabelle looked surprised, and then happy. She wrapped her delicate arms around Killian's neck. "I was going to ask why, but I've decided I don't care. I'd be thrilled to be your girlfriend."

Killian smiled and kissed her, clenching his jaw when the vague image of his first kiss with Emma won't leave his mind.

*******************

Once they arrived, Emma and Graham walked up to his door hand in hand, resting in comfortable silence. When he turned the key in the lock, Emma realized she was holding her breath and let it out.

Graham took Emma's coat again and they were left in the charged air. "You know, Emma, I still don't expect something. We don't have to do anything."

Emma took a deep breath. "I know," she said simply. She walked toward him and laced both hands in his. She kicked off her heels and looked up into his eyes. Emma pressed herself up to meet his mouth, it was their first real kiss since the first night they met.

Graham did not take long to respond, letting his arms wrap around Emma's body to pull her closer. Emma has had her fair share of kisses and by now, she can tell the difference between a kisser who cares and one who doesn't; Graham cares. He took his time exploring her mouth and moved his hands languidly over her body.

But then, just barely, his restraint became less careful—his raw desire started to show through. He accidentally scraped his teeth when he pressed on her collarbone and _god,_ Emma thought, _this is what it's like to be wanted._ It's such an absent, foreign feeling--wanting in such a complete way. Because yes, he wanted her sexually, but he also wanted her emotionally, and that was intoxicating. She didn't realize how lonely she felt.

Despite the small pull of doubt that screams she isn't ready, Emma gave into the more tantalizing feeling of being needed. In each moan and each press of his fingers she commits herself to forgetting the paths that had already been forged on her body's terrain and focusing on the new burning, like metal that was melted down for a different purpose; she would be a different shape, a different thing, to fit this new man.

And after, he kissed his way slowly over her body, trying to worship and memorize each piece. Emma smiled because she was truly happy and Graham's happiness was contagious.

It isn't until Graham fell asleep and the room was dark that Emma's happiness was brought up short. It's the simple awareness that she didn't quite fit in Graham's arms as she did Killian's that was enough to bring all the pain back. Because as much as she wishes she could forget, as much as she has tried, she can't. Killian is a part of her, forever. And their love is the foundation that she builds all other relationships on and she wants to shed it like a snakeskin, but she can't because humans feel pain and hurt and break.

Careful not to wake Graham, she left the room, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. She sat on his couch, by the window, needing to be alone in her skin and her thoughts. She closed her eyes and let herself remember all of it ( _for the last time,_ she tells herself).


	6. Chapter 6

**Six Years Ago**

_Emma needed to run. The last few months had been too much, too grating. She felt she was stripped to the bone, exposed._

_It started with meeting Neal. She tried to steal a yellow bug (not her proudest moment), to drive up to Maine to follow a recent lead about where her biological parents may have been located. Only the bug had already been stolen. She was seventeen, and he wasn't. It seemed like she could find a home in him—maybe even give up the relentless search for her family._

_The Bonnie and Clyde act was fun for a while, stealing from local convenience stores and the occasional wallet to pay for gas, but then it was complicated. After a few months with Neal, Emma finally had solid proof of her parent's location._

_She also had solid proof she was pregnant._

_There were mood swings, morning sickness and a positive pregnancy test. Suddenly, she knew how her parent's must have felt—unprepared and scared. Emma wanted to give this baby his (she could feel it was a him in her bones) best chance, and she wasn't it. Becoming pregnant did allow her to forgive her parents, but it also made everything worse._

_The night after she told Neal, she woke up alone in her Motel 6 bed._ "I can't do it Em, I'm sorry. –Neal." _That was what the note said. Emma sobbed, heaving out the pain, believing this to be her first heartbreak. Later, she would realize this was nothing compared to a true broken heart._

_She ran outside of the hotel door, not bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her blurry vision and forgotten glasses led to her missing the first step down the exterior staircase and falling._

_The hospital told her she lost the baby._

********************

_Killian was sick of his parents. Dave and Ursula Jones were the bane of his existence. When they weren't lecturing him about the importance of his studies, they berated him for his carefree social life or string of romantic partners. He had to grit his teeth and bear it. Why? Because at any point they could take away his trust fund he was set to receive in a few years, or cut his credit cards._

_But this price, living under their critical thumb, was nearly too much. They put the attention reserved for two boys on Killian, because he was all they had left. His elder brother, Liam, had died serving in the Navy before Killian started secondary school. He missed his brother terribly too; which is why he drank and partied until he forgot. His parents spent their extra energy worrying about him. There were days he felt like running away and days he felt like disappearing all together just to finally feel free and alone._

_In his last few months at uni, he planned to do just that. He bought plane tickets, train tickets, hotels and took out enough to cover meals and menial traveling expenses. He made sure everything was paid in full, that way by the time his parents realized what he was doing, there would be no way to stop him._

_When Graduation day came, he walked in the ceremony and kissed his parents on the cheek. "I'll see you at home," he smiled._

_"Your party starts at seven o'clock, don't be late!" His mother called before turning and walking back to the car with his father, whom had a mobile plastered to his ear._

_He tore off the gown and threw it in a nearby trashcan. He met his driver a few blocks from the ceremony. "To the airport, please."_

_His flight left at 6:55pm. "Sorry mother," Killian smiled to himself as the wheels turned up and the plane reached cruising altitude at seven o'clock. He ordered a flute of champagne from the first class stewardess. "Cheers."_

********************

_When Emma was released from the hospital, she didn't have anywhere to go. Neal was long gone, but thankfully left her the bug. She ripped the hospital bracelet off her arm and took out the stolen map from the glove compartment. With nothing to lose, she followed the path to Storybrooke, Maine._

_It only took a few hours from New York City, where she had been circling with Neal. As she got nearer to the place where her biological parents undoubtedly lived (the papers said so), she panicked. Why would they want to meet her? They gave her up. What if they were terrible people? She made herself focus on breathing._

_She pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex and followed the numbers until she reached 3. She knocked and a youngish man answered the door. Could this be him? Doing the math, she realized her parents, who had her at 16, would only be 34. It could be him._

_"Hi, are you David Nolan?" Emma asked._

_"Why yes I am, how can I help you?" His kind eyes looked at her expectantly, and then locked on her gaze. He could see the traces of familiarity in her facial features._

_"Who's at the door, David?" A superiorly feminine voice called. Soon, she appeared at the man's side. She had short black hair, cut in a fashionable way. Her slight stature and creamy skin reminded Emma of herself. This was them._

_"Mary Margaret?" Emma asked, the room starting to spin._

_"Yes," she said. A frown line appeared on her forehead._

_"Eighteen years ago, you two gave a child up for adoption. That was me. I'm Emma. Emma Swan." Emma's voice sounded much softer than her usual tone, and she wrapped her arms around herself when she stopped speaking._

_Mary Margaret's hand flew up to cover her mouth, and David stood absolutely still._

_"Is it really you?" Mary Margaret's voice came out strained. Emma could only nod. Mary Margaret pulled her in for a hug and Emma was stiff, unsure of how to accept the physical contact._

_After a conversation over hot chocolate and cinnamon, her parents confirmed what Emma already knew: they wanted to give Emma her best chance, and at sixteen, they were not it._

_"I've wanted to find you for years, but at the time I asked for a closed adoption because it was hard enough to let you go once. I knew I, we," she corrected, looking at her husband (Emma saw the simple wedding bands on their left hands), "couldn't hear about you and have to feel that pain all over again. Anyway, with a closed adoption, I knew nothing about the family who adopted you, or where they were—"_

_"I was never adopted." Emma said quietly._

_This snapped David out of his stoic state. "What?"_

_"I was never adopted. I bounced around between foster homes for a while, but then I ran away when I was sixteen. I've been out on the road since."_

_Mary Margaret started silently crying, and David looked angry. "I'm so sorry, Emma," Mary Margaret said._

_"Yeah," Emma said. She could see her parents were good people, and genuinely wanted what was best for her, but that didn't stop it from hurting because they, like Neal, had decided they didn't need her, didn't want her._

_They tried to prove their love to her; they insisted she stay in their extra bedroom in the loft, and got her a job working around the Police Station, where David was Sheriff. She developed an interest in becoming a police officer and living on the right side of the law instead of stealing and always outrunning arrest._

_The Nolans were incredibly kind and generous, but Emma knew she couldn't stay. She felt guilty for coming back and creating a pseudo-child for them; she wasn't looking for a handout when she drove to Maine, just to finally meet them._

_So after she saved up some money, she left them a note:_ "Thank you for everything you've done for me. But I need to discover who I am without my past haunting me. I'll come back. I promise. –Emma" 

_She packed her car and headed to the farthest place she could drive to: California._

********************

_Killian's plane touched down in Las Vegas and the neon lights made him giddy. He wanted to hit the City of Sin first, blow off steam, and lose himself in the glamour of it all. He drank his way through the famous casinos and slept his way up the strip. It was so easy in America, all he had to do was say something in his British accent and play the sympathy one-handed card and the young female tourists went weak-kneed._

_He quickly tired of the hollow city. It was like perpetuated uni, with parties and shenanigans. He wanted to see more of the country. So, he went to California._

_He checked into a hotel and went down the street to find a spot to eat. He picked a little shop with outside seating, and closed his eyes to savor the sound of the waves so close and the pure sunlight._

_"Hi, my name is Emma. I'll be your server. Can I get you a drink?" Killian opened his eyes. An exquisite blonde stood before him, small but strong. The light was behind her head, making her long hair glow and shimmer. For the first time, Killian was speechless in front of a woman._

_"Uh, anything to drink?" She asked again._

_"Do you have tea?" Killian asked, still taken aback by his powerful reaction to this Emma. He was hoping to see a smile on her face when she heard his accent, like most American girls, but she remained unchanged._

_The first thing Emma noticed was his lack of left hand. She answered quickly to make sure he wasn't feeling uncomfortable. "Sure, I'll bring out our selection." She disappeared and Killian tried to think of his game plan._

_Before he knew it, she was back and he silently picked a tea. He cleared his throat and before placing his order he spat out: "I know this sounds ridiculous, but would you want to go out to dinner with me tonight?"_

_Emma raised her eyebrows. "You know nothing about me."_

_"That's why I asked you to dinner, so I could learn." Killian said back, finally feeling more comfortable._

_Emma tilted her head and stared at him, trying to figure something out. "Do you live here?"_

_"Visiting on holiday," Killian said._

_"Okay." Emma agreed. Why had she only agreed when she realized that his presence was temporary? She doesn't want a boyfriend, he deduced. Which was fine, Killian Jones had never had a serious girlfriend. She grabbed his napkin and wrote an address and time. "Meet me there."_

_A few hours later, Emma stood fiddling with the hem of her jean jacket. She was wearing a simple pale pink sundress underneath._

_She told Killian to meet her a few miles away from her workplace. There was a small Italian restaurant she frequented because it was cheap and delicious. She was about to check her watch, but then she heard the lilt of his English accent._

_"Come here often, love?"_

_Emma smiled despite herself. "Only when completely random, foreign strangers ask me to."_

_"Hi, I'm Killian Jones." He said. "Now we're not strangers."_

_Emma laughed. "I knew that already. You paid with a credit card at the diner."_

_"You're smart," he said. It wasn't a question._

_"You're traveling," she noted._

_"I am."_

_"Running away?" Emma asked. Her look was challenging. Killian shifted on his feet, he was right to feel attracted to her, she could read him, just like he could read her. Because the only way she could know he was running was if she was running herself._

_"Absolutely," Killian said. And then he smiled. His smile was devastating and healing all at the same time. Emma could feel herself losing her grip, forgetting about Neal and the never seen Him. But he shifted his gaze down and Emma pulled herself back together._

_She pulled them inside and sat down. "Why you running, Jones?" she said, trying to immediately shift the conversation to him._

_"Over bearing parents with unrealistic expectations," he summed up in a simple sentence. "You?"_

_"Something like that," Emma said. Close enough._

_Killian narrowed his eyes. "Why do I feel like you're not saying something?"_

_Emma felt unnerved. "That depends. If the "something" is that I just met my parents three months ago, then you would be correct."_

_Emma expected to see pity or sorrow, or even surprise on Killian's face, but he just looked pensive. "Ready to keep running?" Emma asked._

_"Not a chance."_

_The dinner was incredible. Emma learned that this Killian Jones was quite the foodie, and he gave Louie's handmade pasta dinners a perfect ten. He convinced her to walk down on the beach, "I want to stick my feet in the Pacific Ocean."_

_They hopped over its lame 'closed' chain and sat on the beach. Killian was fascinated, he kept asking questions, and Emma revealed pieces of herself bit by bit. Killian shared parts of his past he neglected for a long time, speaking about fond memories of Liam, about how lost he felt._

_In what seemed like no time at all, the sun was rising. "It looks like your hair," Killian murmured, letting his fingers play with the edges of her locks. They were laying down now, the sand stuck permanently to the back of their necks and other forgotten places that felt alive when they were together._

_"The ocean looks like your eyes." Emma responded, tracing nonsensical shapes onto his chest._

_"I never did stick my feet in."_

_"Let's go." Even though Killian was going to protest that he liked her much better lying partially on top of him, he followed her lead._

_They walked to the shoreline and waited for the sea to lap at their toes. "I've always loved the ocean, and sailing."_

_"How about swimming?" Emma asked._

_"Sure, why do you—" He was interrupted by Emma lunging and pushing him deep into the waves._

_He was submerged for a moment, letting the warm, salty water flow over him. He felt this was pretty accurate for his feelings—totally overwhelmed and surrounded by Emma._

_When he surfaced, he was laughing, spitting out water, but Emma was next to him looking free and incredible. It was the type of lightness that could only come after hard times and heavy burden. He knew there was even more pain in Emma's life than he learned this night. But maybe he could help let that go. And maybe she would humble the rich, wild Killian Jones, take the wanderer and find him a home._

_She pulled Killian to her lips, and kissed him until he had no doubt—she could do all this and more._

********************

_"Emma," he groaned out as she kissed above the waistline of his jeans. She kissed her way up his chest. "Emma, love," his voice was hoarse and deep. She stopped kissing his neck and looked into his eyes. She understood exactly what his pleading meant: We don't have to do this. I can wait for you._

_"I know," Emma whispered against his lips. Killian Jones had never tried to slow down a willing woman before, but that woman had never been Emma. The last two weeks were the most incredible and eye opening of his life. All of his ridiculous behavior in uni was denial of his feelings and grief for Liam's loss. But love, he was learning from Emma Swan, didn't need to be blocked out, it needed to be let in._

_"I want to," she kissed him once. "As long as you promise to still like me afterwards." The pain of Neal's abandonment only a few months prior still echoed dully throughout her consciousness. But each day she spent with Killian was making her feel it less, which was both wonderful and terrifying._

_Killian grabbed her upper arms and flipped her over so she was back against the pillows in her small bed. He propped himself on the elbow of his poor arm, letting his head rest against his stump, brace lying forgotten on the floor. Emma was the only girl he had ever taken it off for. He traced his fingers up and down her side._

_"Emma Swan, I promise I'll like you after. I promise I'll lo—"_

_"Shhh," Emma said, pushing her finger to his lips. "Don't make promises you can't keep." She eyed his wallet and passport resting on her rickety bedside table._

_Killian felt Emma's pain like it was his own. He learned more about her in the last two weeks, and he knew how frequently people had left her. And he knew he didn't have the best track record. But, he was feeling an overwhelming desire to stay, rather than run._

_"I love you." Killian whispered._

_Emma squeezed her eyes shut. "Killian…"_

_He leaned down and kissed the delicate flesh between Emma's neck and her shoulder. "I mean it, Swan." And he did. He never loved a woman before._

_She sighed, and Killian pulled himself back up to look into her green eyes. "I didn't ask for you, Killian." She was frustrated, scared, and vulnerable._

_"I know." Killian gently brushed the blonde hair off the side of her face. "To be fair, I didn't ask to fall in love with an American on holiday." He smiled his slanted grin. "I was going to blow off steam and return to Britain and join my father's empire."_

_"And now?" Emma asked shyly, her shoulders tensing toward her ears._

_"Now, I want to be where you are, Emma. I want to be with only you." The intensity of his blue eyes solidified his words and, if only for the moment, Emma's fears melted away._

_Emma gently pushed Killian down, until he was lying on his back. She climbed on top of him and pulled off her simple cotton dress. She reached behind her back and unlatched her bra. Killian's eyes never left hers until she nodded, and he let himself roam over her body._

_"God, Emma, you're incredible." She smiled and bent down to capture his lips. From there, passion overtook both of them; it burned underneath every touch, under their skin, searing and uniting. For the first time, Emma felt wanted and needed and that she was fixing Killian as much as he was fixing her._

_When he moved in her, he watched her every move, wanting to commit the entire thing to memory; to know her, to show her how much he loved her._

_And after, somewhere between their shared grins, languid kisses and combined thoughts, Emma knew he could make good on his promise. And that she could love him too._

**Three Months Later**

_Killian had cancelled all his reservations, cashed in his pre-bought plane tickets and stayed with Emma in her small apartment. He was about to apply for a work VISA so he could stay in the States permanently._

_His parents started calling a week prior, no doubt to shower him in disappointment. Every time 'Jones' popped up on the caller ID, Emma's eyebrows rose, but she made no comment. She understood needing to be alone, having left her birth parents. She also understood not dealing with things, something she was an expert at._

_"I'm going to talk to them eventually," Killian felt compelled to say._

_"Why not now?" Emma asked casually. She had the tendency of doing that; simplifying things to make them seem so trivial and easy._

_Killian considered it, the phone vibrating in his hand. Before he could think it through, he clicked 'Answer.'_

_"Hello."_

_"Killian!" It was his mother. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Although each of his parents was suffocating in their own unique way, at least Ursula was gentler with her disappointment speeches._

_"I've been so worried! I knew you were traveling, darling, but couldn't you have told us? Told me? Of course, your father is in a right state, talking about cutting you off, and what not. But I don't think he's serious, love." Four months ago, that would be terrifying. Money was all he had. But that wasn't it for him anymore; it was Emma._

_"He just wants you home, back on track. He wants you to apprentice a site manager, get your feet wet, see what it's like to be there from the ground plans of a new restaurant. It's exciting, Killian, we've bought you a flight home, naturally—"_

_"Mum," Killian said, interrupting her. He looked out of the corner of his eye, seeing Emma paused in the kitchen, overhearing bits of his conversation. He didn't want her to feel any pressure. He got up and walked into the bedroom, shutting the door._

_"I'm not coming home. Not now, not soon."_

_"Killian!"_

_"Listen mum, I've met someone here. Someone I love. It's not just another fling, it's not like any of the other girls I've been with."_

_There was a pause. "Killian, that's wonderful. But you have responsibilities here."_

_"I'm putting in for a work VISA to stay here."_

_She paused for even longer. "Your father will cut you off."_

_"I expected that, mum."_

_"She must be something special."_

_Killian laughed, "she is."_

_He clicked off the line, and opened the door to find Emma shamelessly standing in front of it, clad in his oversized flannel, stepping on her own feet, her anxious action._

_"Killian."_

_"You heard," he said. There was nothing to hide; only he knew what an enormous pressure Emma would feel when she knew what he was giving up, even though to him it didn't matter in the slightest._

_"I'm not worth it," she said, leaning against the doorframe. He got up from the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close._

_"Would you shut up," he laughed into her hair. Emma slapped him, "I'm serious!"_

_"I love you, you bloody ridiculous woman." Emma smiled. "It's actually a bit relieving. He was always holding that threat over my head, I knew he would eventually make good on it. Now I don't have to worry. I don't want to be another cog in the Jones' machine, I want to be something new. Something me." Emma nodded._

_"So really, this isn't all about you, you narcissist." Killian added. Emma laughed as well, finally giving into his touch._

_His father did cut him off. But after another month, Dave called to say the Jones enterprise was expanding overseas. They were opening a chain of restaurants in New York City, and there could be a place for Killian as an assistant to one of the site managers. Killian would be like any other employee; working without his trust fund to support him, and that felt far freer than any other option his father had ever given him. Killian's work VISA was expedited._

_Emma packed up her little yellow bug with a few boxes, and they drove across country to New York. A place Neal and her had traversed, but the pain was an empty threat now._

**Two Years Later**

_As the newest restaurant got closer to opening, Emma saw less and less of Killian. He was getting a bit more responsibility. Being only nineteen, she often couldn't join Killian and his new friends during their nights out either. She was waiting tables in a pub where Ruby was a bartender. Often, to his credit, Killian left the boys' nights early and hung out with the two of them at work, but Emma just felt like she was holding him back._

_It was around this time the nightmares started again. Emma had them when she first moved to California, watching herself grow old and alone and lost in the woods, wandering trying to find someone, anyone to help. She woke up breathing heavily, in a cold sweat, wondering if she was destined to be a loner forever._

_Now the dreams were slightly different. She saw herself waking up to an empty apartment, a single note saying, "You aren't enough." Or she saw herself unresponsive, sitting on a couch, looking out the window as Killian drove away. She woke up calling Killian's name, panicked._

_Killian would cradle her and whisper calming things in her ear until she stopped shaking. "I'm not going anywhere."_

_But the bags were getting darker under her eyes, and it was just physical proof of her brokenness. Killian deserved someone whole, someone who could thrive in his fast paced life, someone who didn't have the baggage she did._

_After a few agonizing months, she broke it off._

_"Emma, I'm not letting you go," he said after she told him she was leaving._

_"Don't you see you have to?" Emma croaked, folding her arms over her body, feeling small. So small._

_"No, I don't see that. I see you and me, and all that we've done together. And I see you and me, and our future. I want to be with you, Emma. I want to be with you now, and I want to be with you forever."_

_Emma shut her eyes, but the tears fell anyway. "I can't be the girl you need me to be. I can't give you everything you want."_

_"You're all that I want!" He said fiercely. That image would be something she never forgot. His hand was clenched in a fist, and his left one shoved in his pocket. His eyes were loving, but furious._

_"Right now," Emma said, in spite of herself._

_"Emma," Killian said, more softly. "Have I ever waivered in my affection for you? Have I ever wanted anyone else? No love, I haven't. I'm not going anywhere. I understand that's difficult for you to accept, but it's true. I love you."_

_"You're right, you never have wanted anything else, and I'm still unsure. I'm still uncertain. This is a problem with me, Killian. I am broken. I have baggage. And I can't make you prove yourself to me over and over, because it's not fair to you. I'm going."_

_Emma grabbed the duffel bag off the couch and tried to walk past him._

_"Don't do this," he begged, grabbing her arm. Emma had contained her tears, knowing there was no turning back; she had reached the point of no return._

_"Good bye." She pulled her arm away and left._

********************

Emma sat on Graham's couch, and even amidst the major plot points of her and Killian's relationship, small moments kept popping up as well. The ridiculous stops they made on their cross-country road trip, endless mornings shared naked with eggs in bed, the first birthday she spent with someone she loved, him meeting her parents for the first time…

She let the pain wash over her, closing her eyes and losing herself. After the breakup, she had allowed one week of wallowing and then boarded up all Killian-related thoughts deep inside. Being honest, one week was not enough time. But the distance from those memories had helped.

Killian had moved on. He was not an option. You cannot go back in time or erase the past, you can only move forward.

So, she neatly folded up the pain and tucked it away, not to be forgotten, but to be dealt with in small doses on her own time. Because she had to move forward, or she would be back to that day when she left him; broken, unsure and lost.


	7. Chapter 7

"You look like you had a lovely evening," Killian remarked through tight lips the next morning. He poured Emma a cup of freshly brewed coffee, not missing her messy hair tied haphazardly in a knot on her head.

"Why yes I did. Me and Graham have decided to be exclusive," Emma said. Which was true. Over another round of scrambled eggs this morning, Graham asked her to be his girlfriend, and why should she say no? Because she had a trip down memory lane which resurfaced explainable pain? No, she needed to move forward.

"That's funny you should mention that, Annabelle and I likewise decided to give monogamy a shot," Killian added.

"That's great." Emma said, snatching the newspaper off the table.

As Emma put her dishes in the sink, Killian asked, "Annabelle wanted to go out tonight, get to know you better and what not. Of course, Graham and Ruby are more than welcome. If you're free?"

He waited for Emma's back to be turned, because he winced putting out the invitation. Killian knew it would be awkward, he still hadn't come clean about his past with Emma to Annabelle, but she had been quite insistent. _"We always hang out with my friends, how about we go out with Emma?"_

Emma walked toward the counter, trying to think in what realm Killian thought this was possibly a good idea. He wanted to combine two exes and two new partners, one of which had no idea about the couple's history? Was he crazy? 

"I don't know—" Emma said, turning back to face him, crossing her arms.

"I know, it might be a bit awkward, love. But we have to just deal with these things up front, yeah? You've got Graham, I'm with Annabelle, and perhaps a night out together will make it a bit more natural."

Emma sighed. "Let me call Graham."

Much to her chagrin, Graham was more than willing to cancel their quiet evening at his place to go out with Killian and Annabelle. "Be good to finally meet the man who was stupid enough to let you go," he said enthusiastically. 

Emma called Ruby for reinforcement to make the evening feel less like a double date with her ex. Ruby had a vivacious shimmer about her that strengthened among a group of people. She made such good money bartending because she could light up a room and make anyone feel special. She was like cold lemonade on a hot day when it came to resolving tension amongst people. Every foster kid developed a skill to protect themselves—Ruby adapted to be outgoing and personable, she attracted people to her so she had her choice of friends, but revealed little. Emma was the opposite; she was quieter, forming few deep bonds.

"A night out drinking? Count me in, babe. I'll be over in a splash for wardrobe consultation." Emma hung up smiling. Maybe this could be fun.

Emma talked Ruby down from a short sequin number to dark jeans, heels and a flowing teal tank top. Ruby, of course, was not content unless she was bearing her mid-drift, cool March night be damned.

Once ready, the girls met Killian in the living room. "Looking lovely as always, ladies," he remarked. Emma swore his eyes lingered as they raked over her form, but she quickly shook the thought. It didn't matter, they were going to meet his girlfriend and her boyfriend for gods sake.

Killian had forgotten how amazing Emma's legs looked in dark jeans and heels. They seemed to go on for ages, and he couldn't help but have flashbacks of them wrapped around his waist countless times, as he pushed into her against the wall. He itched the back of his head to bring focus to his imagination. "Shall we be going?"

"Yes," Ruby said. She linked arms with Emma and the two followed Killian into the taxi waiting for them outside the building. The trio was meeting Annabelle and Graham at the bar, which was much closer to their homes than Emma and Killian's apartment.

The cool leather of the seat against Emma's bare back made goose bumps erupt over her flesh and a light shiver take hold.

"Cold, love?" Killian asked. Emma nodded in a non-committal fashion and Killian chuckled under his breath. "Stubborn as always." He shrugged off his black leather coat and handed it to Emma.

Emma looked into his eyes, thinking of maybe refusing his offer just for the point of being independent, but the genuine sincerity in his gaze made her reconsider. "Thanks," Emma said as she slid the coat on, still warm from his body heat.

"Always a gentlemen." He said in response, nodding to her. Emma rolled her eyes. Ruby carried the conversation, for which Emma was grateful. Emma was squished in the middle with the left half of Killian's body pressed neatly against hers; an annoying reminder of how easily they fit together.

Once at the bar, Killian paid for the taxi ("So sweet!" Ruby cried). Emma saw Annabelle and Graham waiting outside for them, involved in what looked like a passingly polite conversation. Annabelle's arms wrapped around her body, keeping her warm.

"Hello, love," Killian said, greeting Annabelle with a kiss on the head.

Reaching her mouth would require him on his knees, Emma thought snidely. As a price for her rudeness, she was assaulted by images of Killian during their relationship and different times he was on his knees…

Graham kissed Emma on the cheek, "You look beautiful."

Emma smiled and remembered her duty. "You remember Ruby, and it seems you met Annabelle. Graham, this is Killian."

"Ah yes, nice to meet you!" Graham said, reaching out to shake Killian's hand.

"Likewise, mate." Killian said with a clenched jaw.

"Can we go in? It's freezing," Annabelle said, eyeing Emma in Killian's black jacket with traces of distain.

"Oh! Of course, sorry, I forgot I was even wearing this," Emma shrugged off the jacket and thrust it into Killian's good hand without making eye contact.

The group made their way inside and Ruby whispered, "She does _not_ like you."

"Tell me about it," Emma said with a sigh. It's not that Emma disliked Annabelle, she barely knew her. Emma just thought she was too young for Killian and spent too much time in a tanning bed.

The bar was nice—modern and trendy. There was a clear sitting area as well as a dance floor, something Emma actually looked forward to, once she had the right amount of liquid courage to be pressed against Graham in front of her ex.

For the first hour or so, the group chatted amiably amongst themselves, covering most of the "getting to know each other" topics. Annabelle had moved to the United States from Australia when she was twelve with her family, and she worked in an upscale jewelry store. After a while, they had exhausted the basics and had moved onto the topic of different "favorites."

"House of Cards," Graham said, answering the "favorite TV show" question.

"Sherlock," Killian answered smoothly, taking a sip of his neat scotch.

"Wrong!" Emma cried out, laughing. The alcohol pressed back her inhibitions. "Killian loves _The Bachelor._ " Annabelle's mouth dropped open and she swatted his shoulder. Killian glared at Emma so hard she swore there was a new bellybutton on her forehead.

"You always refuse to watch it with me!" Annabelle's high soprano tinkled. _Whoops,_ Emma thought.

"I was just kidding," Emma hurried to say.

"That show is bloody awful," Killian added. Annabelle looked put out.

Emma and Killian exchanged a knowing glance, and he seemed to be thankful for Emma's recovery. Apparently, there were more things about himself he hid from Annabelle than just his relationship history. But why?

"Dancing, anyone?" Ruby called, ever so punctual with her rescuing. Emma jumped at the opportunity to put some distance between her and the other blonde and started to pull Graham to the floor. Killian and Annabelle followed suit, and Ruby walked up to the most attractive man in the bar and asked him point blank to dance with her. He agreed, and Emma chuckled at her friend's boldness. Emma and Graham fell into an easy rhythm against the upbeat music, his hands on her hips and her arms wrapped around his neck.

After a few minutes, she caught a glimpse of Killian and Annabelle together over Graham's shoulder. Annabelle's back was pressed against his front, grinding Killian like a pepper shaker. Emma had never really cared for that dance craze, thinking its participants looked like unimpressive, sexual Slinkys. Annabelle's head only reached Killian's chest, making the dynamics of the partnership strange. Annabelle reached up her arm so she could grasp at the back of Killian's neck, and he let his good hand trace from her fingertips to her hip, lingering on the side of her chest.

Something violent burned in Emma, wanting desperately to kick Annabelle to the ground. Emma could almost feel Killian's touch; the path he traced on the other girl burned on Emma from her memories. She wanted to scream at Killian, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH HER?

Emma lost herself in the beat, stepping closer to Graham and pushing one of her legs in between his. His grip responded, tightening its hold on her hips and letting one hand drift to the top of her ass. Emma dug her fingernails in lightly at the back of Graham's neck, pulling him down for a searing kiss.

Killian saw it. Killian watched the couple as if everything around him was gone and they moved in slow motion. He saw the flex of Graham's fingers on Emma's back, he saw Emma lift herself onto her toes to press herself into Graham's lips, and he saw the place where the two of them met and he hated it—more than he ever thought was possible. Killian hated it more than seeing Emma's mussed sex hair, or her in Graham's shirt, because that was all out of sight out of mind. Their embrace now proved the inscrutable fact that Emma had moved on and that another man was touching her, pleasing her, loving her.

"I need another drink," he muttered, pushing Annabelle off him lightly. He stormed over to the bar and barely noticed Ruby as she sat next to him. He gripped the scotch tumbler tightly, and downed the beverage in one gulp.

"You're a scotch man now, huh?" Ruby asked.

Killian nodded.

"Well I guess it works quicker than those rum and Cokes from the old days."

Killian was silent.

"Listen, it's not my business, but I know you're upset. And it's probably about Emma."

Killian got the bartender's attention and was poured a new glass. He easily swallowed this one as well; he needed to flush out the memory of her pressed against Graham so he could regain his composure and stop bloody caring.

"She's just following your lead, Killian."

At this, Killian finally looked at Ruby. "What do you mean?"

Ruby smiled. "I mean that you had someone when you moved in, so Emma found someone. You can't be angry at her for doing what you've done."

"I know," Killian said. "I'm a hypocrite."

Ruby patted his arm.

"But," Killian started.

"Yes?" Ruby asked, intrigued.

Maybe it was the alcohol loosening his tongue, or maybe it was relieving to finally have someone who knew the full situation to talk to, but Killian opened up. "She left me, yeah? She made a choice, and she gave up; I never did. D'you know that when she broke up with me, I had an engagement ring in my pocket?" His words were starting to slur.

There was silence for a moment. Emma never knew that. Ruby closed her eyes and her voice was laced with pity. "Oh, Killian…"

"I wanted to be with her, forever. And I was ready to prove it, but that wasn't enough, was it? So I had to figure out a way to get through it, and figure out how to move on. Can she blame me for that? But now, seeing her make good on that choice, to see her pick someone else, it's enough to drive me mad." Killian drained his third (and fourth) scotch.

"I understand," Ruby said in a small voice. As Emma's best friend, she understood Emma's reasons for leaving the relationship, but her heart ached for Killian. And with this new information, she knew Emma would be destroyed if she knew exactly what she had given up.

"Stay here," Ruby said and she made her way into the crowd of dancing strangers until she found the familiar face. Emma's eyebrows furrowed together as she saw Ruby walking toward her determinedly; she immediately disentangled from Graham.

"What's wrong?"

"Your ex is pounding scotches like water and starting to slur." Emma's eyes widened, Killian must be severely intoxicated, he rarely showed signs of his drinking.

"Where's Annabelle?" Ruby asked.

"She found some work friends," Graham answered. Emma rolled her eyes so he couldn't see, but Ruby laughed.

"Let's go see the drunkie," Emma said.

"Should I get Annabelle?" Graham asked, hand still placed on Emma's lower back.

"Thanks, that would be great," Emma said, kissing his cheek.

Ruby and Emma reached Killian quickly, the crowd was starting to dissipate as stumbling couples poured out of the bar.

"Speak of the devilll," Killian said as he saw Emma.

"Hey there. How's the scotch?" Emma said, crossing her arms.

"So good! I had a few more…"

Emma noticed the empty glasses clustered around him. "Time to get you out of here, I think."

Annabelle and Graham appeared as Emma was hoisting Killian to his feet, her head in between his body and left arm.

"Just like ol' times, love, eh?" His accent got thicker as he got drunker, that Emma remembered.

"What's he talking about?" Annabelle questioned. Emma wanted to clamp her hand on Killian's mouth to keep it shut, but he was drunk and honest.

"Ah, right. Me and Miss Swan used to date. Dated a long time, actually. Almost three years. But haven't seen each other since, no no no. Split our ways, you see. Funny that we found each other back in Boston, almost like fate." Killian said, and Emma felt her heart sink and lurch at the same time.

Annabelle looked outraged. "Is this true?"

How was it Killian was plastered and Emma was now having to deal with the ramifications of his lie? "Er, yes." Killian staggered and Emma bent under his weight. Graham (a gentleman) appeared on Killian's other side and bore most of the load.

"Fuck you," Annabelle spat at Killian before turning away and disappearing among the crowd.

"Smooth," Graham remarked to Killian, and Emma could tell he was enjoying Killian's suffering.

"Ah well, yes, I expected that reaction. No worries, a bit of flowers and I'll smooth things over with the Lady Tinker yet."

"Tinker?" Emma snorted.

"That's her surname, lass."

"So her name is Annabelle Tinker? Belle- Tinker? Like Tinker-belle?" Killian looked confused trying to keep up. "Never mind." 

She heard Graham chuckling on Killian's other side. Thank god Graham was so understanding and kind, this situation could be radically awkward if he wasn't.

"I called a cab, five minutes," Ruby said, iPhone still in hand.

It was quite the effort to get Killian to walk on his own and follow them outside, but eventually as a group they coaxed him out. Graham sat in the front, and Emma sat next to Killian in the back, baring the cold from the rolled down window. The taxi stopped at Ruby's first, and she wished Emma luck with the night. In a few minutes the brick of Emma and Killian's apartment was exposed.

"Cummon, time to get you to bed," Emma said, opening Killian's door and helping him to his feet. Graham made to exit the taxi as well. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

Graham looked at her, and she could not decipher his features, but she knew his easy-going grin was gone.

"Go home, get a good night's sleep, you don't need to deal with a drunken idiot," Emma said, smiling, hoping her dig on Killian would resolve the newfound tension between the two of them.

"All right, if you say so." He shut the door of the cab.

"I'll call you in the morning," Emma said. She bent over and kissed Graham through the window. Killian was leaning against the cab, and cleared his throat loudly.

"Good night," Graham said.

"Good night," Emma returned. Once the cab left, she turned to Killian. "Let's go."

He walked obediently in front of her, and made directly for his bed once inside their apartment. Emma went to fill up a glass of water and rummage through the cabinets to find a pain reliever. He would thank her when he woke up. Emma walked into his room without knocking, and saw him wrestle his black shirt over his head. Only his necklace remained on his bare chest.

_Did he get better looking since we broke up?_ Emma wondered. Because it seemed like he did. His muscles were more defined than before, and he had several new tattoos that hadn't existed back in their time. Emma wanted to lick her way up his abs, but shook her head. She was the (more) sober one, and therefore had to act responsibly.

"Drink this," she commanded. Killian gulped down the water and jumped onto his bed. His one hand tried to undo his belt, but its intricacy was too much for his drunken fumbling.

"I've got it," Emma said, her voice much breathier than she expected. She sat down next to his reclined form and gently put her hands on the buckle. After a few seconds, she pulled the leather from its holds. "There," she whispered.

Killian sat up, and put his good hand on her face. "I've missed you."

Emma closed her eyes, letting the words she desperately wanted to hear wash over her. _I've missed you more than you could ever know,_ she wanted to say. But Killian was drunk, and she had Graham, who was smart, and funny, and kind— but how she felt about him now was nowhere near to how taken she was with Killian from the start.

"Go to sleep," she said, pushing his hand off her, feeling dizzy herself.

"Yes, love." he said. Killian instantly hit the pillows and closed his eyes.

Emma suddenly felt overwhelmed and sober. Sleep was out of the question for the moment. She went to her room and stripped off the binding party clothes, trading them for sweatpants and a tank top. Afterwards, she padded to the kitchen and made herself a hot chocolate with cinnamon. As she reflected on the evening, she felt the worst for Annabelle. Although she didn't seem to be the brightest, she was all around kind, and deserved better than finding out about Killian's past in a drunken confession. And yet, she couldn't get part of that confession out of her head… _We found each other back in Boston, almost like fate._

_Was it fate?_ That thought stilled Emma's heart for a moment. She clicked on the TV and she scrolled until she found some reality cooking show that would keep her distracted. Emma let episode after episode play, enjoying the mind numbing. After a few hours, she heard movement from behind Killian's door. He emerged, wiping his eyes and shirtless.

Killian felt like death warmed up. His head was pulsing with each breath, and his stomach was swirling dangerously. The light from the television was near blinding, and when he was finally able to focus, he saw Emma's figure illuminated on the couch. He thought she was asleep, seeing how the clock showed a little past four in the morning. Killian was shocked to see her turn toward him.

"Hey there," she said quietly.

"'Lo," he responded, rubbing behind his ear.

"Quite the night," Emma remarked.

"Too right. God, I haven't been that knackered since…" he let it his sentence hang in the air, _since you left me._ "In a long time."

"I imagine so. Annabelle was pissed," Emma said, keeping her voice neutral.

Killian remembered fragments of leaving the club, and none of the ride home. "Cat's out of the bag, isn't it?"

"Yup," Emma said. Silence echoed among the bright TV commercials.

"You're quiet on the topic. Usually you wouldn't miss such an opportunity to take the mickey out of me for my drunken antics."

"She deserves better than that Killian."

"What? Who?" Killian was confused.

"Annabelle! Your girlfriend! She was pissed, and she had every right to be. You should have told her about our history, and you should have told her you like _The Bachelor_!"

Killian snorted, "That's a stupid teley program, I just didn't want to be forced to watch it every Monday with a glass of red wine."

"But that's it—the Killian I knew, the Killian I… loved, he wouldn't have kept anything from me. Not his past, not a stupid TV show, not anything. You've changed. And not for the better." Emma's face was a mixture of anger and pain.

Despite the wretched hangover, Killian found room to be irritated. Where did she get off lecturing him? Why does Emma get to come back years later and make judgments for how he dealt with the loss of her? "I'm so sorry that you don't approve of my behavior," Killian said snidely. "But did you ever stop for a second before judging me and think about _why_ I keep the truth to myself?"

Emma looked down at the floor.

"No? Did you ever think that maybe I keep my past to myself because it's _too painful_ to talk about? Or that if I talked about you, it would be so stupidly obvious how much I loved you, and no other women wants to hear that? And that I don't share every part of myself, stupid TV programs included, because offering up bits and pieces of myself is still hard? Huh?"

When Emma met his gaze there were tears in her eyes and Killian's anger instantly deflated.

"No, I didn't think that." She stood up.

"Emma," he called her back, and she turned around, expecting something from him, but what, he had no idea. He didn't even know why he called her name in the first place.

"Good night, Killian," she said after a moment of silence, closing her door sharply behind her, ending the conversation.

Killian ran his fingers through his hair, wishing he could have said the right thing, or anything at all. He wished he had someone to talk to about this whole confusing mess, and he wished more than anything that Liam was alive, just a telephone call away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh poor Killy! Also, I do not own any of the pop culture references in this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

Killian's explanation of his behavior with Annabelle was dizzying, to say the least. Emma thought the grief after their break up had been predominantly one-sided. She expected it would be easy for Killian to move on—he was attractive, British, working for his family's empire, and incredibly charming.

Clearly she was wrong. As much as their break-up had defined her life, it had altered his as well. Emma thought she had been saving Killian from dealing with her brokenness, but she broke him too. Did Emma still love him? That she did not know. All she knew was that hearing what an impact she had (still has) on Killian made her feel deep guilt, pain and confusion. Trying to sort out her feelings left little room for new ones to bloom.

Which is how she found herself at a very awkward dinner one week later with Graham.

After stiff talk through the appetizers and drinks, Graham smiled at Emma.

"It's over, huh?"

Emma sighed. "I'm so sorry, Graham."

"Is it him?" Graham ran his hand along his jawline peppered with scruff.

"Is—"

"Killian. Are you two going to get back together?" Graham was calm, but Emma could see the tight grip on his silver fork.

"No, we're not." Graham relaxed a bit. "But there are some confusing, painful memories brought to the surface with him being my roommate that I need to deal with."

Graham nodded, "That makes sense."

"I don't want to be with Killian, I don't really want to be with anyone right now, can you understand that?" Emma pleaded.

"I can," Graham smiled. In that smile, Emma saw the future that couldn't be: her pinning up pictures on his kitchen corkboards, staring at his Little Red Riding Hood covers over a candlelit dinner for two, and them laying together watching some silly television show on his dark couch. They were thoughts that could never transition into memories, because Emma knew it was unfair to be with Graham and be consumed with thoughts about Killian. She needed to fully confront her past before she could create a future.

"Just promise me you'll be careful," Graham said, suddenly changing the tone of the conversation.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked.

"With Killian. I respect you for what you're doing now; you're trying to figure this out without someone in the crossfire, that makes sense. But him, the way he lied to Annabelle, it's not right. And he could barely keep his eyes off you the entire night...seems like a man who lacks a code."

It was so strange hearing an outside party observe Killian, because she knew what Graham was saying couldn't be farther from the truth. Emma felt a surge of loyalty. "I was the first girl he ever opened up to, and I left him; broke his heart. I can't blame him for being reluctant to do the same again."

Graham examined her curiously, before a bitter grin broke out on his face. "You're in so much deeper than you realize. Good luck with everything, Emma." He then got up, placed some bills on the table and walked out of the restaurant.

The waiter brought out the two entrees and Emma sat alone, picking at both, until she lost her appetite and paid the check early. She put on her jacket and decided to walk for a while before grabbing a taxi home. The March winds had stopped blowing and Emma tried to lose herself among the cobblestones.

*****

Killian tried to apologize to Annabelle all week. Emma was correct that Annabelle did not deserve Killian's treatment of her the previous weekend, despite his unsurpassable self-preservation instinct. Even if Annabelle did not want to continue their relationship, he wanted to better explain himself. He needed to show some honesty and vulnerability in front of her, for once.

After work Friday, he made his way to her apartment. He sat on the stoop, and took out his phone.

**iMessage**

**Killian: I want to talk to you.**

**Annabelle: I'm already home for the night.**

**Killian: Perfect, I'm sitting on your stairs.**

**(Typing)**

**Annabelle: Fine. You have five minutes.**

After receiving the last text, the buzzer sounded and Killian smirked to himself as he entered the building. He knocked on Annabelle's door and she let him in, begrudgingly. She was still in her work apparel with her makeup, making her look severe as she crossed her arms.

"Your five minutes start now," she pointed out, turning to sit on the high stool at her kitchen counter.

"Right, first, I wanted to apologize for last weekend, love. I'm sorry I got knackered, and I'm sorry you found out about my past in the way that you did. That wasn't fair to you."

Annabelle was silent, staring down at her nails.

"I didn't tell you about Emma and I for a few reasons. I didn't want you to be worried or jealous, because we broke up years ago. We haven't seen each other since I answered the ad for a roommate on the Internet; I didn't even know she put it out."

Annabelle decided she could look up at Killian's level, and he took this as a sign of encouragement.

"And the other reason, is… I haven't been involved with someone since her. That was hard to get through. I'm not used to sharing pieces of myself yet. It doesn't come easily to me anymore."

Annabelle tilted her head, trying to assess the validity of what Killian was saying. "You should have told me."

"I agree, love. I should have, no protest here. I was just sharing why I didn't." Annabelle kept staring at him, but made no move to speak again. "I just wanted to be open with you, that's all. I'll leave you to your evening," Killian said, and turned toward the door.

"Killian," Annabelle said and he turned back hopefully.

"Give me some time."

He nodded. "Call you next week?"

Annabelle couldn't stay serious so long; it went against her bubbly personality. "I'd like that."

Killian left Annabelle's apartment feeling particularly light, unburdened by lies or deceit. He decided to take the less traveled route back to his and Emma's apartment, and walk along the busy Boston streets.

Of course, Killian hadn't intended on telling Emma what he did last week when he stumbled out of his bedroom at half four in the morning, but there was nothing he could do about that now. The week had been fine, each of them lost in their own worlds.

However, being caught up in his own interests didn't stop him from catching small clues into Emma's feelings. He saw her hit 'Ignore' on Graham's calls quite a few times, and she went to bed right after dinner, avoiding small talk with him. She must have wanted to keep herself out of Killian's reach as much as possible, feeling guilty for the pain she knows she inflicted, thanks to his stupid little outburst.

Emma had this way of getting under his skin, like no one else. And whenever she alluded that their breakup was easy for him, or that she cared more, Killian lost it. Because he loved her more than life itself for three years (and then some). _Didn't she know? Didn't she know how deeply he cared? Didn't she know he didn't care that she was broken, and that she had problems, because he would have moved Heaven and Earth to be the one to help her realize how amazing she was?_ Killian sighed, _stop it._

Those days were gone.

He didn't realize how far he walked until he turned onto his street. He entered the apartment expecting to be alone, but saw Emma sitting on the couch.

"Early night?" He asked, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his coat. Emma did not reply. He finally looked carefully at her and saw she was still wearing her red jacket and her shoes; an odd combination with lounging on the couch.

He sat down next to Emma and wrapped his arm around her instinctually. Emma didn't stiffen like he expected her to, but sunk into his touch and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"Graham and I are over."

Killian furrowed his eyebrows, from what he had seen last weekend the man was infatuated with Emma. Graham agreeing to a night out with Emma and her ex was proof enough that the man genuinely liked her. Other than confusion about how Graham could possibly not want to be with Emma, he felt a small seed of happiness—which he recognized was wrong. He buried the feeling before he allowed it to reach his heart. What was important was being here for Emma.

"What happened?"

Emma sighed. "I did what I do best: run." Killian's heart sank, hating how disappointed Emma sounded with herself.

She sniffled and pulled out of his embrace, sitting up straight and wiping away tears that had fallen without her permission or knowledge. "I feel like sometimes I'll never run to someone, just always away."

Killian hooked his good hand around the back of Emma's head and pulled her into his embrace. She ended up with her face buried in his shoulder, sitting on his lap with her knees pulled into her own chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she gave over to the crushing fear, crying out every bad thought that had berated her for the last hour since she left the restaurant.

Killian muttered calming things into her hair as he stroked her back and held her tight. It was as natural as breathing; the two of them wrapped together as one. Their weird history and past didn't matter, because the pieces of them met and recognized each other for what they were: parts of the same whole.

When Emma gently pulled her head out of his black leather clad chest and rested it on his shoulder, Killian didn't (couldn't) let go. Because as much as he told himself the days of comforting Emma Swan were gone, he knew they never would be. As long as she was in his life, he would care for and protect her well being. "We're both a bit rubbish at relationships, love. But I think there's hope for both of us to get better at it. You'll figure it out, Swan. You always do."

"Thank you," she whispered, tracing the fine chain around his neck with her feather-light fingers.

"I'd say a bit of a cheer up is in order, eh love?"

Emma smiled, loving the familiarity of Killian's ability to bounce between heavy and light.

"That sounds nice."

"If I recall correctly, that means we require: Phish Food ice cream, Red's Apple Ale, pizza and at least one movie starring that bloke Ryan Gosling." He ticked off the objects on his right hand, his left arm encircling Emma.

Emma laughed, a deep belly laugh that she hadn't in a while. "You're ridiculous for remembering that!"

"Well, thank god I did, Swan. Because if I didn't, then where would we be?"

Emma laughed more. "I have a movie. But I don't think any of those other items are in our apartment."

"Sounds like an adventure is imminent."

"Going to the grocery store on a Friday night is not an adventure."

"Then you aren't trying hard enough, love."

She almost forgot Killian's ability to transform the mundane into something spectacular. It was one of the qualities she loved most about him.

On the walk to the nearest food store, Killian created secret identities for them to follow, complete with disguise. He insisted Emma wear a baseball cap and draw a beauty mark above her top lip, while he mussed his slicked hair and Emma laughed at the extreme, bedheaded result.

He broke out his (bad) American accent, and tried to add a dash of Southern to it—making him impossible to understand. The sales clerk asked him six times what he was saying ("Where do you keep your finest Phish food frozen cream"), and Killian diligently kept character. The poor employee ended up walking away in a huff because Emma couldn't stop cracking up, making it all seem like an elaborate prank.

"I am never pulling a bank job with you, love."

Emma snorted. "Thank god you got rid of that terrible accent."

"I think my American voice is quite smashing, thank you."

They quickly grabbed the beer, frozen pizza and ice cream and checked out before they could annoy any more kind members of the staff.

At home, Emma popped in Crazy, Stupid Love while Killian put their terribly un-nutritious dinner into the oven. Emma pulled the folded, plaid blanket around her shoulders as she attacked the Ben & Jerry's during the opening credits.

"Oi, save some for me, I know you're heartbroken, but that doesn't entitle you to the entire pint," Killian said, brandishing a spoon.

Emma smiled. "Heartbroken is a bit strong, we only saw each other for about a month."

Killian sat next to her, and pulled some of the blanket to cover his legs. He dug his spoon into the Phish Food. "As I recall, you told me you loved me after a month."

"And you told me after two weeks."

"That's not the point, Swan." The slow return of her surname made her smile: she had missed his teasing.

They turned amicably toward the screen. When the wife was dumping her husband during dinner, Emma remarked, "Tonight went a bit like that."

Killian laughed, "poor bloke. What was his reaction once he figured it out?"

Emma was silent for a moment, which caused Killian to look over at her. Her cheeks were red.

"What?"

Emma took a sip of her beer. "He asked if I was breaking it off because of you."

Killian now understood her nervousness. After these two months living together, and their fair share of random outbursts dancing around the fact, this was the first outright address of their past and how it was affecting their present.

Killian took a swig of his drink, feeling butterflies in his stomach for the first time in years. "Did you?"

Although neither of them could explain it, their sides were pressed against each other, much like that last weekend in the car—and each of them were hyperaware of the other.

Emma, to her credit, looked straight ahead, not indulging in Killian's blue eyes. "No," her voice was small; she was lying. "Not entirely," she amended.

Killian felt entranced; if he moved or spoke the spell would be broken, and Emma would retreat back into herself. This was the most open she had been since she came back into his life.

"Of course, we've changed, both of us. But, you were it, Killian." She chanced a glance at him, a small, sad smile gracing her face. He hung onto her every word. "You were my real first love, and that wasn't easy, even though I broke it off. I ran. I ran from my parents, I ran from you, and I'm still running. I just have no clue where the fuck I'm going. And I can't let Graham, or you," she glanced apologetically to Killian, "tell me where to go, you know? I have to figure it out myself."

Killian let Emma's words wash over him, and he saw her: the broken pieces trying desperately to stick back together, still the scared woman she was when she left, but so much more determined to figure everything out—she was beautiful.

He nodded to her, and she knew he understood, as he always had. He even looked a bit proud of her. "So did you tell him all that over the appetizers?"

Emma laughed, throwing her head back. "Yes, I said all of that. Got very deep over mozzarella sticks."

The oven dinged, and Killian got up and cut their pizza, putting it on plates. When Emma took a bite, she practically moaned. "This is incredible, what brand is this?"

Killian looked bashful, "I may have added a bit of seasoning."

Emma arched her eyebrow. "And some fresh sauce and cheese."

"You're incorrigible," she grinned.

After a pizza, a few ales, and almost the entire pint of Ben and Jerry's, the pair was spent. Emma started falling asleep against Killian's side, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

Soon she was asleep. Killian could see her trying to stretch her legs on the couch in her doze. He shifted, laying down and pulling Emma onto his chest. There was a small breath of contentment and she burrowed into his neck. Killian smiled, and let his fingers tangle in her hair.

As gorgeous as Emma looked and felt pressed against him, the embrace wasn't sexual. However, it struck a chord deep within him and stirred something (he wasn't ready to name it), he had not felt in a long time.

He stayed awake for hours, watching the blue of the television screen light up Emma's face, looking at her breathing, and just feeling the weight of her on his body.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian deals with the aftermath of his night with Emma and rocky relationship with Annabelle.

After his night with Emma on the couch, Killian knew he couldn't rekindle a flame with Annabelle. Emma was right to break off her romance with Graham; living with each other was messy and confusing. Him and Annabelle played an unfortunate round of phone tag, and Killian wasn't able to set up a meeting with her until the following weekend, making him anxious. He felt chained to an invisible barrier, because he knew he couldn't look Annabelle in the eye and say his feelings for Emma were dead.

Not that he was ready to _act_ on any of his feelings. He was unsure if the spark he felt for Emma was a remembrance of their past or a new emotion. But Emma _was_ incredible. He didn't understand how he was able to overlook it for the past two months. Emma opening up to him unlatched a gate previously closed on both sides. Until then, they had been careful, quiet and polite around one another. Now, they were bright, brash and lively. The pair fell back into old patterns, mocking one another and laughing constantly. So much was the same, but there were subtle nuances in Emma's changed being that Killian wanted to absorb.

The more familiar Killian became, the harder Emma's body begged her to run, which she challenged. Things were different. She wasn't 21 years old, confused and adrift. She had a good relationship with her parents, a solid career path and finally felt like her life was falling into order. Would Killian upset that balance? Or make it complete? That line of thinking neglected Killian as an element in the equation. Did Killian even want her anymore? Emma wasn't sure what happened with him and Tinkerbelle (a rather mean-spirited nickname Emma adopted for the blonde because of her short stature and oblivious nature), but was fairly certain not all cords had been cut.

As they sat on the couch a Monday night drinking beer and watching _The Bachelor,_ Emma got up the nerve to ask him. "What ended up happening with you and Annabelle after the night we all went out? You never mentioned it."

Killian cleared his throat and took a swig of his drink. "Didn't think you were interested, love. We're actually meeting Saturday for a drink."

He didn't think she was interested? In what? His social life? Or in him? "I care about your happiness," Emma said carefully.

Killian knew this was true. Emma originally left because she believed she was too broken to make him happy. He caught himself staring at her profile and snapped his head back to the screen. "Aye, I know."

During the next commercial break, Emma retrieved another round of drinks and Killian's phone buzzed.

**Incoming Call: William Scarlett**

That wasn't a name he saw often. Will, an old friend from uni, moved to the States a few years back. It must have been almost a year since they last spoke.

"Mate, how are you?"

"There he is! The elusive Killian Jones. Checked a calendar lately?"

Scratch that, it had been _exactly_ a year since they had last spoken. "April 10th," Killian said.

"Yes! It's almost April 10th. Time for the fourth annual year of debauchery." April 10th was the day Emma left Killian, four years ago. The first night he called all the Brits he knew to have migrated to the States to get knackered with: Will Scarlet, Victor Whale and Smee.

They all came through spectacularly. Killian woke up the next morning on top of a layer of spilled Coco Puffs with nothing on but his knickers and a pirate hat. While Victor and Will disappeared the next morning laughing, Smee stuck around and helped Killian through the break up. Killian got him a job within his father's company, and now he was his right hand in the new site, _Wrecked._ The whole evening had been so ridiculous that the next year Will and Victor were eager to repeat the experience. And so they did. April 10th became a day for drinking and shenanigans.

"Yes I recall, but…"

"Don't even think of backing out, Jones. I've already got Smee and Whale. We're coming to Boston and going to sample libations from every pub!"

"Right." Killian knew there was no dissuading Will. "When is April 10th?"

"Friday! Honestly, mate…" _Marvelous,_ he was going to be hung over when he broke up with Annabelle. Will kept babbling, but when Emma reentered the room he swiftly ended the conversation.

"Who was that? They sounded British."

"Will." Killian sighed.

"Will? Wait, like the Will who you told me in college photoshopped all the teachers in his department onto a pornographic photo and hung a banner of it in the quad?"

"The very same. Many talents, that bloke. He works for a magazine editing photos in New York now, so that endeavor was quite educational. More so than his sociology courses."

Emma laughed. "Good for him."

"He wanted to grab a pint Friday." Killian felt compelled to explain, because undoubtedly she would see his drunken self at some point in the night.

"That should be nice. I'm thinking about just hanging home this weekend. Tidying up, relaxing."

Killian gave her a look.

"What?" Emma said defensively.

"Why don't you also pick up a stray cat or two, yeah?"

"Oh shut up! One weekend does not make me a lonely cat lady."

"Well you're not getting younger…" Emma smacked his arm. As she turned back to the program, Killian wished he could pull her back and lean in. He hadn't gone a day in the last four years without remembering her kiss. But he needed to do this _right._ The pair was complicated enough with their history, he didn't need to bring his quasi-relationship with Annabelle into it.

The two sat in companionable silence until Emma fell asleep on Killian's shoulder an hour later, a trend he was becoming quite fond of. They hadn't slept together in the same space since the night Emma left Graham, but Killian craved it desperately. Feeling her perfectly fit under his arms again was the start of his undoing. However, in the interest of good form, Killian carried Emma to her own bed and sprinted into his room and shut the door, hoping physical distance would make him want her less. But if that tactic failed these past four years, how did he expect it to succeed now?

***

Emma grunted as she fell back against the blue practice mat. Again.

Over the past few weeks, her police training was heavily focused on knowledge and law. Now, the second phase had begun and her physical strength was tested. While Emma identified herself as the quickest among the female application pool, they provided little challenge and room for improvement. Today, Emma pleaded to practice sparring against her male colleagues and she was feeling the ramifications.

"We can stop," the male voice, Walsh, called out to Emma. 

She took a deep breath, taking in the sweaty smell of the plastic mat in front of her and pushed up yet again, ignoring the quake in her arms. "Nope. I'm fine."

Walsh grimaced, but put his arms back up in defense stance. Emma lunged forward, trying to be more offensive this round, but Walsh dodged to the right and managed to spin and lock his arm around Emma's neck. She was hopelessly pinned against his body and his forearm pressed uncomfortably against her collarbone.

Emma coughed and he let go immediately. "I was going to get out of it!" Emma cried.

"Sorry, Emma. I'm not willing to risk you passing out first." Emma fought the powerful urge to rub her neck where she felt the oncoming soreness from the headlock. The male members already thought her to be weak; she would not provide any more evidence for them.

Her instructor blew his whistle. "That's enough for today!"

Emma growled. She grabbed her bag of street clothes moodily, and she was about to storm out of the gym when a hand touched her on the shoulder.

"Emma?"

She turned around; Walsh looked hesitant. "I'm sorry about that, I have a hard time sparring you."

"Because I'm a girl," Emma said flatly.

"Because I've wanted to ask you out for a few weeks now," he confessed. Emma was surprised.

"Oh," she stood there, like a goldfish gasping for air for a few seconds before she recovered and was able to say: "I'm sorry, I'm not dating right now. I need some space from that."

Walsh gave a wry grin. "It's okay, I didn't expect you to be interested."

"It's not that!" Emma said quickly, trying to remedy the awkward situation. "It's just..." _I live with my ex boyfriend that I probably still have feelings for? I never really moved on from my first love? Trying to connect with people makes me run?_ "I recently stopped seeing someone and I wanted to give myself time."

Walsh put his hands up. "Fair enough. If you change your mind, I'm here."

"Thanks," Emma said, sharing a smile and rushing out of the gym to go home to Killian. However, when she returned home, she had the apartment to herself. She jumped in the shower and rubbed soap over her sore muscles, trying to think about where he could be. She saw patches of ivory skin blooming with blue and grit her teeth as she rubbed them. Then she remembered it was Friday. Killian was out with his British friends. _Mates,_ her head corrected. She tried to justify the sinking of her stomach and the disappointment she felt, but the truth was, she was tired. Tired of justifying. Tired of trying to not like Killian, tired of denying their connection, and tired of running away from the only person who had ever chased her.

There was however, the small matter of Tinkerbelle. Emma's eyebrows furrowed together as she dried off. If Tinkerbelle made Killian happy, Emma couldn't interfere. She owed him happiness. But the fact he hadn't mentioned her at all these last two weeks, save when Emma prodded him, must mean something… right?

After a meal of leftover chicken Parmesan (courtesy of Chef Jones), Emma popped popcorn and decided to distract herself with a movie. As she was finally settling down for the night, her phone rang.

**Incoming Call: Ruby**

"Hello?" Emma answered, heart thumping. As a bartender, Ruby always worked on Friday nights. Emma was worried something was wrong if she was getting a call so early.

"Emma!" There was loud noise in the background… it sounded like sea shanties.

"What is going on in there?"

"Well, Killian and his friends have been bar hopping and they strolled in here drunk and now are performing native British navy songs."

"It's only 7:30," Emma said incredulously.

"They're trying to turn my broom into a microphone."

"I'm on my way."

A quick forty minutes later Emma strolled into Ruby's bar. Her hair was thrown up in what she hoped to be a trendy bun, and she wore a casual chiffon tank top with her leather jacket and tight jeans. She was trying to say: _oh what? I just ran down here from the apartment…_ While showing long legs and cleavage. God, she had lost her mind.

"There she is!" Ruby said as Emma walked in, sounding relieved.

"Ahhh, Swan!" Killian called out. He had a relaxed crooked grin on his face and the almost imperceptible glow of alcohol.

"Yes, here I am." Emma sat down next to Killian.

"D'you know my mates? Will, Whale, Smee?"

"Wait, Emma? Emma, Emma?" Will asked.

"The very same," Killian said.

"She's the guest of honor!" Whale exclaimed.

"Oh really?" Emma asked, laughing at their obvious drunkenness.

"Yup! Do you know what today is?" Will asked again.

"Now, now, mates. Emma doesn't want to—" Killian tried to cut them off, suddenly turning pink.

"It's Friday… It's April 10th…" Emma started listing classifications.

"BINGO! Bloody brilliant. It's April 10th, otherwise known as the day, four years ago, your lovely self kicked this git to the curb," Will said.

Killian was silent, burying his face in his pint. Emma's smile faded.

"We do this every year! He called us up that day, sad as a landlocked sailor, and we got him knackered…" Their words ceased to mean anything to Emma; she was busy studying Killian's face.

She remembered that day four years ago very well. When she left Killian's, she went to Ruby's apartment. She had to stop along the way and sob in a coffee shop bathroom to tide her over. Ruby pet her hair as she lay curled in a ball on her couch. There were two phrases she muttered over and over: "he deserves so much better than me," and "I love him so much." Emma ate exactly three bites of Phish Food Ice Cream and picked up her phone to call him nine times. She tried desperately to hold the pieces of her shattered self together. But she never pictured what Killian did that day.

Now, Killian's mouth was pressed into a thin line. He looked embarrassed.

"Well, if I am the guest of honor, I better order a pint." Emma said, placing her hand gently on Killian's shoulder. He smiled brilliantly. The tension melted from the situation and she was able to join the group and distract them from the topic of Emma and Killian's couple-hood.

After only another hour or so, the four men were clearly obliterated (some more than others) and Emma had a buzz. "What do you say to packing it in early, mates?" Killian asked. She noticed his speech was still intact, which was a good sign. The same, however, could not be said for his comrades.

Will and Whale protested Killian's request, but Emma noticed Smee pull out his phone and call a taxi. In only a few minutes the slightly older friend was shuffling the two drunkards home. Emma thanked him and put her arm around Killian to collect him.

"Homeward bound?"

"If the lady insists." Emma blushed.

On the walk home, Killian was quiet, concentrated. Upon entering their apartment, Emma cast off her jacket and went to brew some coffee and heat some left overs for Killian. Food was the best hangover preventer. In a few moments, she found Killian on the couch and brought over the plate and mug.

"Bless you," he said.

Emma laughed. "Anytime."

"Thank you for tonight, being so…"

"It's no problem," she jumped in.

"I appreciate it. That day, I didn't know what to do… I called them and they helped. Of course, to Will it's just another day of the week he's allowed to drink, but they insist on it every year. It's nice to catch up." Killian struggled to explain.

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad they were there for you." _When I left._

Killian went to pick up his plate, but dropped his silverware in the flash of an eye and wrapped his arm around Emma to push her head sideways and inspect something on her neck. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"What? Oh! Is it bruised? We sparred today in training."

Killian looked scandalized. "It looks like you were bloody assaulted, Swan." His fingers gently traced over her collarbone where she remembered Walsh's arm pressing in earlier that day. The warm pads of Killian's fingers ignited Emma's skin, making it hum gently. And before he could stop himself, or think about it, he bent his head over and kissed her collarbone. His lips were full and soft; her skin tasted like cinnamon and home. He pressed another gentle kiss on the edge of the bruise.

Emma was absolutely still. God, how she implored his touch and here he was, kissing her skin like he had so many times before. But everything was different. Because it had been four years and they were like snakes, shedding their past lives but somehow still slithering along the same path.

What to do? Without her permission, her hands ran through his parted hair, mussing it. Killian moved his head, and locked eyes with her. He looked wrecked; Emma knew the feeling. The alcohol left his cheeks pink, which heightened his blue eyes. His lips opened slightly and were a breath away from pressing against her own. Emma was about to tug him closer when one nagging thought pressed against her head: Annabelle.

"You have a date with Annabelle tomorrow." She said quietly.

Killian closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Emma's. Her hands slid down his neck and rested on his shoulders.

"I'm breaking it off clean."

Emma's heart leapt, but then felt sobered. "Were you planning on doing that before? Or are you drunk and…"

"And turned on?" Killian finished. "While you are remarkably tantalizing, love, I have been planning for a while to meet and finish things off properly with Miss Tinker."

"Since when?"

Killian took her hands in his own, knowing right now was a defining moment. He could let her know it was for her, or he could retreat back into the safety of his shell where she couldn't hurt him again. "Since the night you left Graham. Since we slept together on this couch and you trusted me again."

Emma's eyes were fierce and she couldn't contain the passion she felt. She rocketed forward and pulled him to her, pressing her lips against his. Her tongue was searching, desperate, wanting to plunge into his mouth, to remember every crevice and every motion. The rhythm came back as easy as breathing. Killian kissed back passionately, pulling her body to connect to his and his heart thundered in his ears. With each thud he felt more and more consumed. _Emma…Emma…Emma…_

Her hands clutched at his back and he rubbed his right hand up and down her side, resting on her hip as his left arm kept her close. As quickly as it began, Emma pulled back, panting. "We can't do this yet."

Killian fought to pull himself out of the fog. "You're right." They both let their breathing return to normal. "When I win your heart again, Emma, I don't want it to be with any trickery. I want it to be because we both want it."

Emma nodded. They both had been drinking and Killian still had Annabelle to deal with. Starting something now would be bad form, on both their parts. But the undeniable fact was Killian and Emma were once again ensnared in the erotic and consuming dance they began almost seven years ago.

Emma got up from the couch, hating herself as she did it. "Good night, Killian."

"Good night, love," he said through his lashes. He itched behind his ear and moved down to tap his lips. Emma used all her restraint to walk away and move behind her bedroom door. She flopped down on her bed and willed her blood to stop running through her veins, her breath to calm, and her thoughts to stop whirling. But one thing she did not will away was the warm feeling seeping through her chest.

For this moment, Emma was incandescently happy.


	10. Chapter 10

Killian wasn't nervous about breaking things off with Annabelle. She was young and beautiful—finding another willing partner in Boston would be easy. She wouldn't throw a drink in his face either, she was too kind. 

However, Killian was nervous he would cause Annabelle pain. That somehow, despite his constant rehearsing and tight-lipped tendencies, she would see the reason in his eyes or hear the truth in his voice. The truth was he never got over Emma and couldn't stop thinking about her now. But feeling like a second choice was awful, and he wanted to avoid that for Annabelle if possible; none of this was her fault.

Killian walked into the bar anticipating he would be the first to arrive, but for once Annabelle was early. She wore a trademark tight dress with sky high shoes and her blonde curls were piled atop her head. It was remarkable how quickly perception could change. A few weeks ago Killian would have drank in her appearance with a lustful gaze, now he was counting down the moments until he could leave and return to his apartment.

"Hello, Annabelle."

"Killian!" She sprang up to envelop him in a short, friendly hug. Even in heels, her arms only reached his chest. Something was off—this was bubbly even by Annabelle's usual standards. The greeting felt like two old friends coincidentally finding each other in a crowded, public place. They sat down and Killian tried to figure out where her formality was coming from. _Maybe you're imagining it._

Killian noted Annabelle's nearly empty martini glass, meaning she had been here a while. "You're early."

"I know. I just… wanted time to think." Annabelle's smile faded and she swirled her glass, consuming its leftover contents. Killian arched his eyebrow. "It's… You're great, Killian." She said suddenly, taking his hand in her own. "Really, really great."

Killian winked. "Thanks, love."

Annabelle breathed out a heavy sigh, her small fingers sweating as they wrapped around Killian's right palm. "You see, there's this… this…. Well this other guy who works at the suit shop next to me, and we've been friends for a while, but I swear I never saw anything coming. Me and you haven't seen each other for three weeks and... I haven't hung out with him alone, but…" she trailed off and smiled. "I really like him, Killian. And I like you too! It's been so fun, what we've been doing. But I always feel like you're not fully there, or the real you. I didn't know you were living with your ex-girlfriend! Not that this is your fault—"

Killian could have laughed out loud he was so happy. "Annabelle, lass, it's fine. I know how you feel. I was coming here to say the same thing." 

Her tense, perfectly manicured eyebrows relaxed. "You were? Oh thank god." Annabelle motioned to the bartender to bring her another round.

"I'm happy you're interested in someone, he sounds perfect for you."

"He is my age," she teased. Her joke reminded him of Emma's aversion to Annabelle. In all honesty, Annabelle was a bit immature and young for him, but she was distracting and soothed the pain inside him, albeit temporarily.

"Well done." Killian nodded approvingly and ordered a whiskey.

"You didn't meet someone," Annabelle added as the bartender pushed a tumbler Killian's way. He stayed silent. "You still want Emma."

Killian paused, taking a swig of the whiskey. "Aye. You're a perceptive one."

Annabelle rolled her eyes. "It wasn't a great mystery. I could have moved past it for now, but I'm sure if we had ever gotten more serious it would have stood in the way. Everyone deserves a shot at their happy ending," she said smiling. "No matter what their past. Especially at true love." 

That was Annabelle in a nut shell - a true believer in all things good. Killian could see how Emma procured a fairy nick name for her. He knew in the long run that clash of personality would have been fatal, but he hoped Annabelle never lost her sparkle; there was already too much darkness in the world.

Killian raised his glass. "To happy endings." 

***

Killian told Emma of his plans to completely cut ties with Tinkerbelle, but there was the dark part of Emma's mind (the one primarily responsible for their break up in the first place) that told her he would choose the other woman instead. Her thoughts whispered her short comings and choked her with their doubt. Emma went to the gym so she didn't have to watch Killian leave to meet her. She knew if she watched him get ready jealousy would rear its ugly head, not that she had any claim to him. Yet.

The memory of last night's kiss brought fire to her veins. With Graham, and with the nameless others since her and Killian's break up, physical touch had never been so consuming. Emma punched the pace on her treadmill up, needing to run out her extra energy. Emma's negativity was drowned by her body's insistent demand for oxygen. After a few miles, she slowed to a walk. She felt exhausted but powerful. _Stop being ridiculous,_ she told herself. _Killian is a man of his word, a man of honor._

Emma hoped the trip home and her shower would fill Killian's absence, but the apartment still lay motionless by the time she put on her pajamas. Her internal clock pulled her eyelids shut, even though it was early for a Saturday night. Her bodily soreness didn't help; her bruises had fully developed as deep purplish spots all over her body. Emma climbed under her comforter and decided she would nap until she heard the door open…

_She was in the middle of the woods on an old dirt road. There was a high pitched whistle in the distance, and seeing no other choice, Emma started walking toward it. After a few minutes, she came to a pair of rusty train tracks. There was no crossing light or safety bar to block cars, merely a wooden sign that read: STOP. LOOK. LISTEN._

_The whistle grew louder and Emma stepped closer to the tracks, trying to figure out which way the train was coming. Eventually, she spotted the lights approaching on her left side. The train was moving rather slowly, setting a steady pace. She smiled as the first car went by, enjoying the feeling of the wind on her face. The parade of cars lasted a few minutes, until the old fashioned red caboose could be seen. There was a porch on the back, like she had seen in so many movies._

_Emma was prepared to turn around and explore the woods more when she heard her name._

_"Emma, run!"_

_She looked up to see Killian standing on the back of the train, his right hand extended. He looked panicked. Without thinking, her feet sped up and she started running in between the two parallel strips of metal with her hand out in front of her. But now the train was picking up speed. Every time she willed her legs to go faster, the train went faster as well._

_"Hurry, Emma!"_

_She screamed out to force her body to move, but night was falling. She followed the train by its glinting metal in the moonlight. The trees were no longer edging the sides, but invading her space. Extended branches whipped at her cheeks and bit shallowly into her skin._

_"Cummon, Emma!"_

_Each cry from Killian made her try harder, only to be met with more obstacles. She wanted to quit and sob, but she couldn't. She had to reach him._

Killian stayed at the bar longer than anticipated. His original plan was to leave within a half hour, expecting a dejected Annabelle to sulk off or curse his company. But now he didn't want to shrug off her willingly offered friendship or slight her by cutting off their conversation. Granted, the chat was one sided with her going on about Peter (the other man) and asking for male advice, but it had been nice just the same.

Luckily, it was only 10:00 on a Saturday night. Killian estimated Emma would be awake and waiting for him. His heart sank when the apartment was silent, wondering if she nipped over to Ruby's bar or went out for the night. His brain flashed images from a few weekends ago of Graham's hands gripping her body. _Stop,_ he commanded.

Killian was about to check the usual spots when he heard a whimper. His eyebrows furrowed and he crossed the living room in six large steps to Emma's bedroom threshold. The light from the main room poured in and he could see her. Emma's eyes were shut tightly, too tightly, to be in a peaceful slumber. A light sheen of sweat covered her forehead and he could see her feet twitching under the blanket.

Killian's face blanched; she was having a night mare, night terror, whatever the proper term may be. She had them for majority of their relationship, but he hoped her slumbers weren't plagued by them all these years.

Killian kicked off his shoes and climbed in the bed; comforting Emma came back so naturally. He put his good hand gently, but firmly, on Emma's arm and rubbed circles. He slid his left arm under her neck, pulling her into his chest. "Shhh," he whispered. "Emma, you're okay. It's all right. It's a dream, just a dream." Slowly she looked up at him through bleary eyes. His heart broke seeing her panic and anxiety, but as she took in her surroundings Emma's gaze softened. Her arms circled Killian in return and she tucked her head under his chin. "That's it," he soothed, running his fingers through her hair.

Killian saw the singular candle on her bedside table and smiled wryly. He always lit a candle when he pulled her out of night terrors in their past relationship to chase away the dark thoughts. Killian believed it was the same one. There was a little book of matches next to it, which he managed to light with his right hand and ignite the wick. 

"Have you had those nightmares all these years, love?"

Emma looked over at the glowing candle, a soft smile on her face. "No. I haven't lit the candle ever.... They went away a few months after. This is the first one since."

Killian felt guilty. Was he the trigger of her anxious thoughts? Was he the reason Emma was plagued with darkness? _She left you for a reason,_ his thoughts chided.

Emma could sense his tension. "They only come when I want to run. When I feel like things are too good to be true. I want to run because I care about you, Killian. I never stopped. And that's the reason I'm staying put."

His eyes were on her face intently now, soaking in her boldness. Emma from four years ago would have shrugged off the vision, skipping details and ignoring his questions. She would have felt too guilty to bare her troubles, which was absurd. It was a sign of her growth that she was able to tackle a conversation about her insecurities head on. A sign of the strength she built by herself, and Killian felt a fierce swell of pride.

The energy needed to go somewhere. He took his hand resting on her hip and moved it to pull her face to his. His lips sought hers eagerly, dying to prove his very real existence and feelings. Emma was surprised when Killian's kiss was so enthusiastic, but she quickly matched his vigor. "I missed you," he whispered reverently as he sucked his way down the tender flesh of her neck.

"I missed you too." Emma was momentarily embarrassed by the breathy quality of her voice. However, when Killian's teeth lightly raked below her ear, she stopped caring. How was it better than she remembered? Their sexual memories had been the most difficult to shake over the past few years, and they were still dim by comparison. He paused when he reached her collar bone, met again with the dark mark from her sparring the day before. His fingers left her lower back and traced the edges gently. The sight must have proved as a reminder of her pain, because Killian instantly relaxed his grip and slowed his lips. He left a few feather light pecks before bobbing his head back up and kissing Emma's forehead.

"Sorry, love. I got carried away."

"Don't apologize for _that_ ," Emma said, still breathing more heavily than usual. 

"Seeing how much you've grown... it's incredible, Emma." 

She knew what he meant. She had become more self-aware and capable of dealing with her anxieties. She colored under the intensity of his gaze. "Thank you."

"I'm also thrilled I can hold you again. And kiss you whenever I want." Killian's trademark smirk was replaced by a full grin. His tenderness was infectious. Emma kissed him once, a short embrace, before pushing tightly to his side. It was almost eerie how well her body fit into his, almost too effortless.

"Are you tired, love?"

"Would saying yes make me the worst?"

"No, it would make you exactly the woman I know. I'll leave you to your slumber." Killian started to pull away, not wishing to pressure Emma so soon after their reuinion.

"Don't go," she whispered, digging her fingertips gently into his back. And just like that he was completely and utterly hers. It was pathetic how quickly he caved to her soft plea. He sunk back into his spot and held her close like he wanted to since that night on the couch, which felt like ages ago. Killian waited until she fell deeply asleep before blowing out the candle.

The next morning Emma rolled over and found the spot next to her cold. A slight panic set in, but she managed to talk herself down within a few seconds, which was especially easy when she smelt the bacon wafting in from the kitchen.

"Good morning." Killian greeted her with a kiss. He was in an undershirt and jeans, his hair deliciously disheveled.

"Dressed already?" Emma smiled, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

"Well some siren convinced me to stay in her bed last night and I never got the chance to change out of my denim."

"I'm sorry." Emma didn't seem sorry at all.

Killian pushed around some bacon before putting the spatula down in favor of Emma's hip. "Don't ever apologize for asking me to stay in your bed, love." He winked salaciously. Emma swatted his arm and rolled her eyes.

"Breakfast smells amazing," she commented, after a lingering kiss. He explained the little adjustments or enhancements he added to the traditionally standard breakfast items, his eyes lighting up like they always did when he was around food. Emma focused on the incandescent grin on his face and couldn't help the one that blossomed on hers as well.

"Sorry, did I get caught up talking about the food again?"

"Only a bit." Breakfast was served and every bite was perfectly balanced and creative. Emma tried to figure out how she was so lucky. 

"I was thinking," Killian said after he cleaned his place and wiped his face. "That I should probably ask you on a date."

It seemed silly, after all they had been through. The only "date" they went on before was their first, at that little Italian place back on the coast of California when she was a waitress and he was on holiday. Afterwards they were constantly with each other, doing things together and experiencing life. The old courting ritual didn't fit them back then and it didn't fit now either. They already lived together and only a few weeks ago were on a double date with other people.

Killian could sense her hesitation. "I know it seems a bit superfluous, but I'd like to make the right step in our new beginning. We never courted much before," he flashed her a grin. "We jumped in feet first, which was bloody amazing, but I would like to take the time to enjoy every moment this time around."

How could she deny his request? "All right, Mr. Killian Jones, what did you have in mind?"

"That's for me to know, love."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Warning: Explicit sex in this chapter :)

A few days later, Emma's bruises were starting to heal but, she doubted she would escape today without a few new contusions forming on her pale skin. She wore a high collared shirt to cover the fading yellow-green marks on her clavicle. Emma didn't want to give Walsh, or any other male trainee, a reason to take it easy on her. Her efforts were in vain as Walsh was, as usual, the only male to volunteer as her sparring partner.

Emma gritted her teeth as she tried to bite back her pain when he caught her right leg mid-kick. He easily yanked the limb and Emma ended up sprawled on her back.

"Try to use your knee if you're going for the groin. The less distance to travel, the less likely it is your assailant will stop you." Emma let Walsh's voice wash over her exhausted figure on the ground. When she opened her eyes, his hand was in front of her face. "Thanks," she grumbled and let him pull her up to her feet.

"Emma, I was thinking…" She sucked in, preparing to reject Walsh's romantic request for an awkward second time. "We could train together. I work at a self-defense studio downtown during the weekends, and I could use a study partner for the class." 

Emma brightened. She had done exceptionally in the police coursework so far, and getting more time on the mat could only improve her combat skills.

"That sounds—" she was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing. Emma received so few calls that she frequently forgot to turn the tone off. She scuttled to her bag and shot an apologetic glance to the instructor and Walsh before taking the phone outside.

"Hello?"

"Hello, love."

Emma grinned despite herself when she heard the deep timbre of Killian's voice. "Is everything okay?"

"Not quite, Swan. I find myself to be an impatient man, and looking at a calendar I find the traditional date nights far away." It was Wednesday. Emma rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed firmly fixed in place as he continued. "To remedy the situation, I thought I'd request your presence for dinner tonight. Would you join me?"

Emma stifled a laugh at the formality of it all; they ate dinner or take out together nearly every night in their apartment. "Well, training may run late…" Emma teased, but the silence on the other line told her Killian did not recognize the joke. "Of course I'll have dinner with you."

"Brilliant. I'll pick you up at eight?"

"See you at home, Jones."

Emma returned to the gym to see the group had been dismissed for the day, but Walsh lingered. "You've got a deal, Walsh. How does this Saturday morning work for you?"

***

Killian eyed his appearance more critically than usual. His jeans were stiff and his dark blue shirt felt constricting. The more formal evolution in Killian's wardrobe was a result of two things: one, as he climbed the corporate ladder in the Jones family business, he shed his relaxed look in favor of a clean-shaven, respectable manager. The other influence, if he was being completely honest with himself, was Emma. After Emma left, he wanted as few reminders as possible of their relationship. Each time he shrugged on a shirt he pictured a time Emma wore it (and nothing else) to bed. His jeans had a history of being tugged off by her and tossed on their bedroom floor. He used his new status as an excuse to put his old clothes in a box, to be a coward. Four years later, he barely recognized himself. The slicked hair and bare clothing seemed so formal. They represented what he had become: detached, alone, and superficial.

Tonight, he was reclaiming a piece of his past, a piece of himself he buried with the dusty box. Killian reached in his closet and pulled out a dark blue plaid flannel and worn gray t-shirt. He took his bottle of gel and threw it in the garbage, leaving his hair to dry in its natural untidy way. He kept the jeans on. Some parts of Killian had needed this time to mature. Looking back in the mirror, he was a strange mix of old and new, vintage and sharp. His openness and optimism were things he sought desperately to recover, while his newfound work ethic and logical half were qualities he wanted to keep. It felt right. He nodded to himself before taking a deep breath. Killian left his room before he could rethink any of his choices and intended to gather his personal belongings before "picking" Emma up at her room. 

A knock at their front door halted his progress. He was surprised to find Ruby waiting in the hallway. Her face was creased with rare worry, and she was dressed in looser, duller colors than usual. "Oh hi, Killian. Is Emma here? I wanted to talk to her."

"Absolutely. Come in, lass." Killian gestured with his good hand, his braced hand shoved in his pocket. "I'll go fetch her," but as Killian turned toward Emma's room he saw his quest was pointless. She emerged, like a vision, in her pale blue dress. The slim straps curved to her shaped shoulders, and the waistline accentuated her defined core. She shrugged on a light jacket over the outfit, covering her bruises (some new, Killian noted with distaste).

Emma gave Killian a smile before turning to her clearly distressed friend. "What's up, Ruby?"

The brunette sighed, running her bright red nails through her long tresses. "Have you ever had one of those moments where you just pause and think: 'What the hell am I doing with my life?"

"Absolutely," Emma affirmed. "You remember—that day the family of six didn't leave a tip! I applied to the Police Academy that night."

"Well, I finally had that moment."

Killian was surprised. He thought Ruby was the perfect bartender. She loved people and talking all day—what could work better?

"This guy was sitting there for three hours, ordering the same thing every 45 minutes like clockwork. And he started trying to flirt with me, and I was nice, but then he started getting angry I wouldn't like leave my shift. And anyway, I just was like, why the fuck do I put up with this? I would love to go a day I don't have to think about what I wear to get more tips, or put up with some asshole trying to grab me."

"I don't blame you," Emma agreed. She guided Ruby to the couch and nodded her head for Killian to join them in the sitting room.

"The problem is, I have no idea what I want to do. I didn't go to college, I wasn't even good at stuff in high school, and that was so long ago now! How could I go back?"

Inside Killian's head gears were turning. "What about something that needed a training program, like Emma's police work, instead of college?"

Ruby looked surprised at his input. "That sounds like something I would do."

"Well, you love chatting and interacting with people, and you're creative and fashionable." Ruby's frown lightened at Killian's comments. "Have you thought about something in the retail or fashion industry?"

"I feel like I need a break from customer service," she pointed out.

"Fair, lass. Too right you are. What about something where you could run your own business? Hair styling for example? You've always got different shades on your head," Killian asserted.

Ruby brightened. "That would be awesome! That's a great idea!"

Emma was caught up in Killian's determined look to solve Ruby's problem. His concern for her friend's happiness touched Emma in a deep corner that had long since been vacant. Ruby started babbling about the time she cut her own hair at age eight, and Emma's eyes caught on something else—Killian's shirt. It was one she remembered vividly from their time together. It was one of her favorites to curl up in each night. The gesture was small, and maybe unconscious, but was a gentle cry back to their beginnings and it made Emma's stomach flutter. Then she noticed his hair was disheveled (her favorite look) that he had only recently sported at night time. She didn't realize she was staring until Ruby called her name.

"Emma!" Emma gave her friend a guilty look before blushing slightly. Ruby looked suspiciously between her and Killian. "What's going on here?"

"Beg your pardon?" Killian asked.

"You're both dressed up. And—" A knowing look came over her face, before her trademark wolfish grin followed. "You two are going on a date. Together."

Emma cut in, "I was going to tell you when we saw each other Friday night!"

Ruby waved her hand as dismissal, "No worries. I'm sorry for interrupting your evening."

"Not at all," Killian supplied.

"We'll catch up on Friday. Thank you for your suggestions, Killian. I'm going to look into different programs. Enjoy your evening." Ruby added a salacious wink before flouncing out the door, and Emma cringed.

"She bounces back quickly, that one," Killian said.

"One of her many assets. Subtlety is not one of them."

Killian laughed. "That it is not. Speaking of which, may I be quite frank and say you look fantastic?" He got off his couch and moved next to Emma. She could feel his body heat where their legs barely touched and a familiar tingle ran under her skin.

"Thank you. I remember that shirt," she said, gently fingering the collar.

"Aye. I thought it was about time I dusted it off."

"And the hair." Emma hesitated before running her fingers shallowly through his thick, black mane.

His breathing hitched at the contact, and she withdrew her hand quickly as if burned. Everything was still so tentative and new between the two of them. As amazing as their one night sleeping (and only sleeping) had been in her bed this week, neither of them escalated physical contact. Although they had been in this spot before, everything was different.

"You a fan, Swan?" Emma nodded. "Good, because I'm a fan of every part of you." Killian let the compliment sink in as he squeezed her hand. "Shall we go to dinner?"

"We shall," she answered in a small voice.

Emma didn't have specific expectations for their date, and would have been content with another home cooked meal by Chef Jones and joint mocking of _The Bachelor._ But Killian's insistence that they do things right this second time around was also adorable.

"Where are we going?" Emma asked as he opened the door of his car for her.

"Wouldn't be a secret if I told you, love." She shook her head at his ridiculousness.

"How was your day?"

"Infinitely dreary until I came home," he said earnestly. "Everyone was on task today—the construction crew, Smee brought in appropriate people for interviews, and the interior designer didn't suggest we staple raw fish to the walls or something equally ridiculous. Quite a dull day." He flashed a smile over to Emma. "And you, love?"

She secretly loved the way his pet names for her rolled off his tongue. Not that she would tell him that. "More sparring. I'm actually going to practice this weekend with one of the other trainees. He works at a self-defense studio."

"I saw a few new blue marks," Killian noted with darkly. Emma could see the way his hand stiffened on the steering wheel and the rigid line between his eyebrows. She unconsciously reached for him, her fingers landing gently on his jawline, peppered with newly grown scruff.

"Hey, I'm fine. It's part of the job. I'm going to practice until I'm good enough that no one can touch me." She didn't know when exactly she fell in love with her new career choice, but she must have, considering her obvious passion and dedication.

Killian grinned at her. "Oh I have no doubt, Swan. But I can't pretend to be completely unaffected when I see bruises across your skin like polka dots."

"You'll have to kiss them better." She said, half joking. But the thick tension that followed showed her their joint longing. Killian looked at her surprised with dark eyes that barely held back his hunger for her. Years ago, Emma would never have been so bold in her advances, but as he noted before, she was the same, but so different now. She was confident, stronger, and bloody entrancing.

Killian swallowed and mentally cleared his head. They arrived at their destination. "As you wish." He shut the car off and let the implication ooze over both of them, before breaking the spell. "For the moment, how about dinner?"

"Great," Emma said, her cheeks coloring lightly.

When she stepped out of the car, she looked up to the restaurant's awning, curious where foodie Killian Jones had selected for their (second) first date. She gasped and her hand flew in front of her mouth, she would have recognized the simple checkered pattern anywhere. "That's Granny's! But… how?"

Killian wrapped his arm around Emma's waist, smiling at her reaction. "When I first started working for my father's company a few years back, I told him about this impeccable Italian restaurant I had eaten at in California, my first night there. A few months later, the Jones Company franchised it. There are five or six now. One of my first jobs was helping on the site of the one in New York."

She gaped openly at him now. "You franchised and partly own Granny's."

"Aye. I think it was my way of staying tied to you, after… you know."

"I left." She supplied.

He shifted his weight between his feet. She was suddenly angry at herself. How could she have possibly ever left this incredible man before her? "I'm sorry," Emma said, turning to put her arms on Killian's shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Killian. I thought I was broken and that you deserved better. I thought I needed to fix everything myself. I never stopped to consider what you wanted." Her distraught green eyes searched his and could feel a tug at the old pain inside of him, but it had no fighting chance against the burn of compassion he felt for her now.

"I wanted to be there for you, Emma." Her first name sounded so intimate falling from his lips after the pet names and frequent use of her surname.

She traced her thumb along his jawline. "I know that. I'm sorry for never giving you a choice."

He forgave her then and a thousand times over. He forgave her when he moved in and saw how independent she had grown in his absence. He forgave her over English muffins and coffee each morning. He forgave her when they laughed at yet another blonde crying during her elimination on _The Bachelor._ He forgave her when he discovered their picture in her room, when she broke up with Graham, when she slept by his side…

He pressed his lips to her, a deep unspoken thing passing between them. Emma sighed against his mouth and wrapped her arms even tighter around his neck. When they pulled apart he muttered, "I forgive you, Emma."

"Thank you," she whispered back, their foreheads resting against one another.

"May I escort you inside?" he asked once their breathing had returned to normal.

Emma felt lighter than air. "You may."

Emma felt transported back to an earlier time when she stepped through the door of Granny's. The interior was nearly identical to its Californian counterpart, although less shabby. She assumed the Jones restaurant franchise had the means to buy new furniture that looked vintage versus having to purchase odds and ends from thrift stores like the original Granny had to do. There were also old pictures of Boston, rather than of the coastal California town Emma lived in. But when she closed her eyes, she could hear the waves crashing, the kids thundering down the boardwalk and nearly taste the salt.

"What do you think, love?" Kilian asked, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder like he had a thousand times before.

"It's incredible." Emma said genuinely. A kind looking hostess appeared and nodded to Killian. He flashed a smile and she grabbed two menus before leading them to a booth with tall red candles adorning the red checkered tablecloth. Killian pulled out Emma's chair and for a moment she was overwhelmed with nostalgia.

When the hostess left she went to open her menu and realized something odd. "Killian, why are we the only two people in here?" Emma whispered, looking around.

He grinned. "Granny's may be closed on Wednesdays."

Emma's mouth hung open. "Did you bribe them to open?"

"Not a bribe, love… more like… a favor." He smiled and busied himself by looking through the food choices.

"You're unbelievable," Emma said before grinning and setting herself upon the task of picking a dinner. She decided on the meatballs, an Italian classic. Even Killian, the traditionally healthier eater out of the two of them, indulged in chicken fettucine Alfredo.

"Tell me something that happened over the past few years that I don't know," Emma implored as she took another bite of her meal.

Killian thought for a moment, taking a sip of his wine. "I went back to London."

"Did you?" Emma said surprised.

"I did. This past December actually. I went back and spent the holidays with my family. It was the first time I saw my mother and father in person since I left on graduation day."

"How was it?" Emma asked; he so rarely talked of his family.

"It was… hard. At first. And then it was quite nice. We talked about Liam for the first time in years. We all visited his grave together." Killian looked down at his food to break eye contact.

Emma reached across the table and held his hand in hers. "That sounds lovely," she said, offering him a small smile.

Killian looked up and squeezed her hand. "He would have loved you. Especially in your new career choice. Fighting the bad guys, very good form."

"I wish I could meet him," Emma added honestly.

Killian smiled back, "Thank you, love. I know. Now it's your turn. What's something I missed?"

"Well…" Emma said hesitantly.

"I'm all ears." Killian put down his fork to direct all his attention to Emma.

"Off and on, I've taken some classes at one of the community colleges in Criminal Justice."

Killian's eyes lit up. "That's fantastic! Good for you! How many courses?"

"Well, I've taken two a semester for four semesters… so eight. I stopped once I got into the Police program, I don't have time right now." Emma said sheepishly.

"Of course, but you'll be able to pick it back up again." Killian encouraged. He got out of his seat and walked around the table to kiss her cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Swan."

Emma's cheeks colored spectacularly. "You're lucky we're the only two in here, otherwise I would have scolded you for that public affection."

"I'll accept any punishment for kissing you." Killian said, sitting back down and cocking one of his eyebrows. _Why did everything that came out of his mouth sound like liquid sex?_ Emma thought bitterly to herself. They finished their meals with polite conversation, recounting small moments that were particularly memorable from their time apart, and Emma was proud of herself for fighting the desire to climb over the table and straddle him.

Killian insisted on dessert, even though Emma couldn't finish her main course. She took a few forkfuls of tiramisu, but it was more fun watching Killian enjoy food. He understood food on a more complex level than she did; Killian eating delicious food was like a professional musician attending an orchestra. They sat chatting over coffee until Emma remembered the restaurant was not normally open, and they were keeping the staff late. Emma started putting on her coat.

"Going somewhere? I will have to remind you I drove us."

"Killian, they're all staying late just for us! We can talk more at home."

Killian leaned closer and whispered, "They are being rewarded handsomely."

"So it was a bribe!" Emma said triumphantly and Killian laughed.

"The chef owed me a favor, the waitress and hostess were bribed. And well enough, might I add, that you can finish your cup of coffee."

"Look at you, Mr. Hotshot Jones working for the Jones family business," Emma teased taking a sip of her hot beverage.

Killian leaned closer. "Hotshot job or not, I would pay any amount of money to enjoy your company and stare at you in that gorgeous blue dress all night." He licked his lip.

He was trying Emma's self-restraint. "How about," she said lowly, "we leave this restaurant because I'd rather be at home with you?"

Killian's face broke out in a mischievous grin. "Well that can be arranged, love." He immediately got up and pulled out Emma's chair for her, looping her purse around his left arm until she was ready to don it herself.

They began walking out of Granny's and Emma felt like they were forgetting something. "The check!" She said, and went to turn around.

Killian wrapped his arm gently around her waist. "Taken care of before we came."

"Right," Emma said and allowed him to lead her outside. She waived to their waitress before exiting. Killian opened the passenger door for her and she sat down in a slight daze. She was silent as they started driving.

"What are you thinking, Swan?"

"This was smooth. The chain, the opening when they're closed, the check already paid for! Smooth, Jones." 

"I'm glad you approve, it'll make it much easier to trust me when I plan our next romantic evening."

Emma groaned. "You know I hate surprises."

"Think of it as a growing experience then. I want to court you, Emma. I never got the chance to before."

How could she say no to such an earnest request? She placed her hand on Killian's thigh and smiled over at him. They arrived at their apartment and Emma poured them both another glass of wine. She kicked off her heels and jacket to join Killian on the couch and drape her legs over Killian's lap.

"How did I do? Where does this rank on the scale of first dates?" Killian asked, tracing his fingers lightly up and down the inside of Emma's forearm. She was totally relaxed.

"Pretty damn well. The only one that might top it was our _other_ first date."

"The original was better than the sequel, classic conundrum." Killian shook his head in mock defeat.

"But I think the cast gave one hell of a performance," Emma added. She scooted closer and put her thumb under Killian's chin to pull his eyes to hers. "Thank you. Tonight was perfect." And before he could comment, Emma pressed her lips to his. She placed her wine on the side table so she could wrap one hand in Killian's hair and have the other to trail down his chest. Killian followed her lead and wrapped his left arm around her waist to pull her closer, while threading his right hand in the end of Emma's blonde locks; he always loved playing with her hair.

Killian pressed his tongue through Emma's lips and she let out a light moan. She moved to put one leg on either side of him and shifted so her body totally covered his. Her hands started to work on the top button of his flannel before he paused her wrists with his right hand. He rested his forehead against hers as he tried to steady his breathing. " _Emma."_ Her name was a whisper, a prayer, a confession, a secret. "I can wait. I want to court you and build a strong foundation because I don't plan on letting you leave again."

Emma smiled and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "I'm not going anywhere. I've waited for this for two and a half years. I'm tired of waiting, I've missed you so damn much—"

That was all Killian needed to hear. He crushed his lips back to hers with ferocity. He released Emma's wrists and traced his fingers down her bare spine, fingering the straps of her dress where they crossed over one another.

Emma felt like her entire body was conducting electricity. Everywhere Killian touched bloomed sparks, and the charge just kept growing more and more powerful. She finally managed to undo his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. He removed his arms from her body for just enough time to discard the old flannel. As she slipped her hands under his t-shirt to gather the offensive material, Killian busied himself with kissing down the column of Emma's neck until he reached her collarbone. There, the most aggressive of Emma's bruises, which he had kissed before, was in its final stage—a light yellow with green around the edges.

"I do remember you suggesting I kiss your bruises." His voice was gravelly and laced with lust. Emma shivered. He wrapped his arms under her and stood up. Emma tightened her legs around his waist and kissed his neck as he carried them into his bedroom. She craned her neck to get right under his earlobe, a particularly sensitive spot for him. He cursed under his breath and Emma chuckled deeply in her throat. Killian stood for a moment until he found the zipper on her dress. He unzipped it slowly, staring directly into her eyes as he did so.

Killian lightly laid Emma on the bed before placing one leg on each side of her hips. He gathered the skirt of her dress in his hands and pushed it upwards. Emma arched to accommodate his pathway and quickly the material was pulled over her head. Emma was naked except for her scrap of white lace underwear.

"Christ, Emma," Killian choked out. The cool air of the apartment immediately perked her nipples to full attention. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, and ran his right hand down the middle of her torso between her breasts and stopping just above her sex.

"Take off your shirt," Emma pleaded. The shirt was thrown to a forgotten corner of the room.

Killian swooped down to push his lips back against Emma's. The contact of his hot skin against her cool body made them both moan. Killian pulled back to whisper in her ear. "I intend on kissing all of your bruises, and then I'm going to kiss other places." Emma could feel herself get wet at his words.

He started with her collarbone, and lightly gathered her wrists in his hand so he could kiss the several small fingertip bruises on the inside of her forearms. Emma could feel her body taunt with anticipation. "Relax, love." He said, placing her arms gently back by her sides. "We have all night."

They did have all night. Emma was truthful when she said she pictured this over and over for the last two and a half years. Everything in her was telling her to flip them over and ride him immediately. She wanted to remember how he felt in her _now._

"Patience," Killian whispered as he kissed a nasty bruise on her hip bone. Emma squirmed. He continued his ministrations.

"Did I miss any, love?" he breathed into Emma's ear as he bit down lightly on the lobe some time later.

"No," Emma managed to whisper.

Killian pulled back and kissed her hard on the mouth. Emma swept her tongue over his bottom lip and he moaned. He eventually managed to pull back from Emma's kiss and slinked down her body once more. He nudged her legs apart with his nose and kissed her inner thighs.

"Killian, I—" She wanted to end the teasing now, to have him slide inside her.

"Please, let me." He looked so utterly wrecked peering up at her through his dark lashes in between her legs.

"Okay," Emma consented.

Killian bit the corner of her lace underwear and pulled them down her legs with his teeth; Emma moaned at the sight. Once he discarded the garment, he returned to his position between Emma's legs. He licked once over Emma's entire entrance and her whole body contracted. The careful passion Killian administered so far was starting to strain. He could feel, and taste, how desperately Emma wanted him, which drove him crazy.

Emma's body was more responsive to his touch than he remembered, probably because of their absence and built up anticipation for the moment. After only a few minutes of careful licks and nibbles, paired with a finger thrusting gently in and out of her, Emma climaxed, moaning Killian's name. Watching her back arch, hair tangle around her breasts, and feeling her thighs wrap around his shoulders made his control splinter even more. His erection was now straining against his jeans. Emma's hands, still laced through his hair, tugged him up to her. She kissed him intensely, tasting herself on his tongue. While their mouths were busy, she pushed down his jeans and boxers.

"Emma, I need you." He finally choked out. He felt like his entire body was aflame.

She pushed his shoulders to the side until he understood her intentions. He laid on his back and let Emma sit on top of him. "I need you too," she said, leaning down to place a languid kiss on her lips. She raised her hips and Killian used his hand to guide himself to her entrance. With their lips still pressed together, Emma slid down, effectively taking every inch inside. They both moaned into each other's mouths.

"God I missed you," Killian said roughly as she started to move, slowly at first to readjust herself to his size. None of the men she had been with since their break up filled her like him. Her tempo was the sweetest torture, going just quickly enough for him to start building, but not fast enough that the friction provided relief.

Once she started to gain speed, she moved off her elbows to be seated fully upright and gain more leverage with each thrust. Killian gripped her hip with his hand while his left arm curled around her thigh on the side of his torso. Quickly, she felt a second orgasm building. The deep angle allowed Killian to hit her most sensitive spot each time.

"I'm close," she moaned, grinding her hips more roughly with each passing second. The sight of Emma riding him and the intense heat and tightness of her had Killian close within moments of her announcement. He began thrusting his hips up to move just a bit more deeply, and Emma made a louder moan. "Don't stop," she begged.

He didn't plan on it. "Come with me," Killian moaned. And with three more thrusts, both of them were orgasming. The hardening of his cock made Emma's climax more powerful, while her tightening around him created a deeper feeling. Killian finally felt like he was whole again. Afterwards, Emma's arms collapsed and she nuzzled her face into the crook of Killian's neck. She kept him inside until he slipped out, and then she moved her legs next to him staring into the blues of his eyes.

"That was incredible," Emma sighed. Sher let her hands wander until she was running the tips of her fingers over the details of his face, trying to catalog this memory.

Killian traced her hip with his hand. "You are incredible."

They were both silent for a moment as their breathing slowed and the warm feeling of being together settled. They used a towel to clean up before settling back into Killian's bed, taking care to pull down the sheets and place the pillows.

Emma paused. "Before, when you said you wouldn't let me leave again."

"Aye. I meant it, love."

Emma swallowed. "I'm not perfect. I've worked hard and I'm a better person now. I'm a better person for you and because of you. I'm not saying I'll never feel like running, but I can promise that I will never, ever take choice away from you again. I promise to talk to you. To figure it out together."

Killian smiled, a truer and deeper smile than he had the few months they lived together. "That's all I could ever ask for." He kissed Emma's forehead caringly. "And I'm not the same as I was when we first started our dalliance. I've grown up quite a bit, and have responsibility—I'm a better man now. I'm more worthy."

"You were always worthy."

"I was irresponsible and rash, love. I'm glad I had this time to mature; catch up to you," he teased. Emma smiled and buried deeper into his side.

"Tired?" He asked again.

"No," Emma said. But her eyes were shut and body limp.

"You and your early bedtime," he laughed.

"You chose date night for Wednesday; I have training tomorrow!" she defended, albeit in a slightly incomprehensible grumble.

"Rest," Killian soothed, running his hand through her hair. "I'll be here when you wake." The path of Killian's fingers and the sound of his heartbeat lulled her to sleep.


End file.
